


Ocean Eyes

by Counted_fiend



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Au character swap, How Do I Tag, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Implied Sexual Content, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance is Depressed and doing his best, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Post Season 7, Proceed with caution, Season 7 cannon compliant, Sorry Adam I still love you, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, a lot of potential triggers, anger issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-10-13 22:51:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17496878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Counted_fiend/pseuds/Counted_fiend
Summary: “Who are you and what have you done to Lance McClain?!” Keith demanded, shoving his finger in the face of the Would-be-Lance.Not-Lance looked at him, exhaustion and pain underlying the irritation at being dumped unceremoniously off Keith's shoulder and said “Look, Mullet, I don't know what game you're playing right now but as you can see I'm a little too tired and beat up to play along. I'm not even 100% clear on what just happened, so if we could move this along and get me to those healing pods that'd be great.”Or the time that Lance is swapped with an alternate reality version of himself and nobody is happy about it, least of all Lance. Now the team has to figure out how to switch them back as they learn just how important Lance is to them.





	1. When Comes the Storm

Things were going badly.

There had been a few months of peace and rehabilitation once Sendak and the mystery monster had been defeated. It had been a narrow victory and the paladins had trained harder than ever and helped make improvements and repairs to the Garrisons fleet in preparation for other attacks. People were recovering and healing from injuries and personal losses, but there wasn't any time to relax or let their guard down. And now all their preparation and hard work were being put to the test yet again as Haggar herself did her level best to tear down the Paladins and their defensive base.

Keith struggled to keep his lion righted; he had taken a bad hit and now his controls were suffering. Warnings flashed across his control panel. His over-head lights flashed on and off too, blinking at regular intervals. _Probably warning me of something else I don'thave time to worry about at the moment_. He found the switch for the lights and roughly shut them off. He'd be able to fly by the light of the sun streaming in the cockpit instead. He tried landing on the creature’s back to tear into its neck with his jaw blade, but after three failed attempts he pushed off hard to try and regroup with the others.

They had tried forming Voltron but weren't able to get enough distance from the thing’s many spiked arms to fall into formation. The beast was a hooded replica of the witch herself with an addition of a multi-armed jet pack on her back. It made the whole thing look like a very large robotic spider more than anything else.

“HOW did she even create something like this with the empire in the state it's in?” He growled.

“That's really more of a secondary problem at the moment Keith!” Pidge shouted.

“Yeah, maybe we could work on that one AFTER we've taken down the giant Haggar robeast?!” Hunk supplied. “Speaking of which, anyone have any ideas? My lion really can't take much more of this. Those weird lightning bolts coming from the spider legs are way too powerful!”

Keith could see the yellow and green lions weren't faring much better than Black, and while Red and Blue weren't directly in his line of sight, the alarms sounding across the comms weren't a great indicator that they were any different.

“Hunk’s right, we need to stop those legs before we can do anything else. Allura, can you keep them down with Blue’s freeze ray?” Keith said. 

“I'm sure I can, though I don't know how long it will hold” she said dubiously.

“We only need a minute; Do it. Everyone else, get ready to form up!” Keith commanded.

“Great plan and all, oh fearless leader, but I can't get anywhere at the moment!” Lance’s voice sounded strained in Keith's ears. “I'm pinned down here! Aaargh _joder tu madre_ you _hijo de puta_!”

Keith whipped his lion around and sure enough the lightning legs were focusing their attack on Red.

“Right.” He said grimly. “Lance I'll distract it with the jawblade, just -”

Before he could utter another sound, the legs came together to focus a single blast directly in front of Red. Keith watched in horror as Lance flew right into it.

The team was left helpless as Lance's scream filled their ears.

Instead of being blasted apart, the whole ship was illuminated in the ominous purple light. It hovered motionless in the air for an excruciatingly long second before the pulse ended and Red was plummeting to the ground.

“LANCE!” Keith was suddenly filled with a terror thinly disguised as rage; as he turned back to the robeast instinct took over and he became one with his lion. The Black Lion spread his wings and surged forward, fueled by their combined spirit. 

Suddenly he was on the beast; He was the beast.

He could hear Haggar’s mocking cackle for just a moment before his mind cleared. Then he was on the other side and the robeast was behind him, huge electrical arcs cascading around its center.He turned back to deliver the killing blow.

This time his claws sunk easily into his prey.

When he kicked off this time there was a gaping hole left in the chest plate of the robeast. Pidge circled around behind him and aimed right for the center.

She shot Haggar's puppet down in a shower of metal and purple flames, and the remains fell to the ground where the rubble lay scattered among the sun baked clay and debris of the desert.

 

 

Keith landed the Black Lion near where Hunk and Allura had safely guided Red to the ground and jumped out of his pilot seat before the ramp had even fully descended.

The noise was incessant; the pounding of blood in Keith's ears as his panic rose, the continuous frantic chatter of his team trying to reach Lance and keep contact with the Atlas crew, Pidge’s frustrated expletives as she and Hunk worked together to get the main entry opened.

There was a crushing silence emanating from the Red Lion though; the one sound Keith longed to hear, was straining to listen for, was missing and he couldn't breathe.

“Lance! Come in, Lance! Answer me dammit!” Keith shouted over the others. As he approached Red, he used his lingering connection with the lion to open the hatch. Pidge toppled inward as the jaw opened unexpectedly. Keith and Hunk hurried past into the cockpit.

Inside, Lance was unconscious on the floor before the controls. He didn't appear to be badly injured, just some minor cuts and early bruising on his head and hands. The alarming part was that they could see his injuries at all, because Lance had been wearing his armor when he left the Atlas to join the fight, but he wasn't wearing it now. He was in his civilian clothes. Pidge, Hunk and Allura stopped short at the sight.

Keith rushed forward, ripping his helmet off and dropping his bayard carelessly to the floor. He grabbed at Lance's jacket hauling him into a sitting position and shook him, “Lance? Lance, buddy, wake up. Come on. Lance!”

Lance stirred slightly in Keith's arms, eyes fluttering open. “Kogane? What's-” he cut off with a grunt of pain as Keith’s grip on his arm momentarily tightened. Relief flooded Keith's system at the sight, and the sound of Lances voice (finally, finally) soothed his frayed nerves like a dam breaking over a forest fire.

Sighs of relief and soft cries of ‘Lance!’ echoed around the cockpit from the others.

Keith huffed out a small laugh. “Good to have you back, Sharpshooter. Let's get you back up to the Atlas and into the Med Bay.” He said softly. He threw one of Lances arms over his shoulders as Hunk came up on the other side to do the same.

“Atlas? Med Bay? Kogane, what are you talking about? What's wrong with using the healing pods like usual?” Lance groaned.

Keith and Hunk froze, exchanging looks of alarm. _How hard had Lance hit his head_? Then something clicked that he hadn't realized was bothering him until just now.

 _Kogane? Lance doesn't call me Kogane. He's never once called me that_!

Keith hadn't registered it at first, but now that he had, an unsettling feeling began to pool in his gut. He turned under Lance's arm to face him as best he could and grabbed his chin with his free hand to force Lance to look at him.

Wide blue eyes that should have been familiar in their sincerity and gentleness looked down to meet his own and Keith, in his panic, stumbled back and almost threw Lance to the ground again. The gentleness was gone, replaced by something hard and steely; The sincerity replaced by apathy. The vivacity was missing altogether. The light had left his eyes completely. The spirit behind these eyes had been thoroughly crushed. It had been utterly decimated. What was left was merely a shell with a lobotomized stare.

Hunk had kept Lance standing, if a bit lopsided, and was now looking at Keith like he might also have hit his head.

“Uhh, Keith, you all ri-” Hunk started.

Keith cut him off. “Who are you and what have you done to Lance McClain?!” He demanded, shoving his finger in the face of the Would-be-Lance.

Not-Lance looked at him, exhaustion and pain underlying the irritation at being dumped unceremoniously off Keith's shoulder and said “Look, Mullet, I don't know what game you're playing right now but as you can see I'm a little too tired and beat up to play along. I'm not even 100% clear on what just happened, so if we could move this along and get me to those healing pods that'd be great.”

Allura came up behind Keith and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked over at her, silently pleading that he wasn't the only one seeing this. She held her hand to her face in shock, eyes wide and glistening as she stared into Not-Lance's eyes herself. She had seen it. That erie, haunted, dead look in those eyes that hadn't been there only hours ago.

“I'm sorry, Lance, but the Castle of Lions is destroyed. We can take you to her replacement, the Atlas, where the Garrison crew will address your injuries in the Med Bay.” She replied sadly.

It was Lance's turn to be shocked and dismayed. There was a lot of information in that statement to process, and they could see the thoughts flashing across his face. “Destroyed? Garrison? We're on Earth?” His face settled on a kind of hollow dread as he voiced the last question.

At that Pidge and Hunk looked at each other, comprehension dawning on their faces simultaneously.

“ _Motherfucker_!” Pidge swore loudly.

“ _ **How** did she manage_-”

“Christ only knows-” 

“Ohh man this is soo bad-” 

“Must have been something when all those blasts came together-” 

“What are we gonna tell his sisters? His _mom_ -?”

“ ** _Shit_** this is so bad, how are we going to replicate fucking inter-dimensional-”

“Maybe Slav can help us figure out-” 

Lance's head whipped around towards Hunk looking like he had seen a ghost. “What did you just say?” He whispered.

Hunk stuttered to a stop as he looked at Lance closely for the first time. “I- uh..uh hem,” he cleared his throat, “I was just saying maybe Slav could-”

“No! Not about Slav, you big idiot, before that!” Lance hissed.

“Hey!” Pidge and Keith exclaimed. Lance still had one arm around Hunk’s shoulders but the other hand was curled into his collar. Hunk looked as if he had been slapped. 

“My family, Hunk! What did you say about my family!” Lance cried, shaking him. He had a maniacal look about him: tan skin gone pale and sweaty, eyes wide and panicked as a bruise blossomed over his temple and across one brow.

“I was just wondering what we were going to tell them,” Hunk said in a small, shocked voice.

“They're alive?” Lance whispered, tears welling up in his eyes, “Really alive? All of them?”

“Yeah, man. They're fine!” Hunk said bewildered. Lance blinked up at him a few times before his legs gave out and he collapsed against Hunk’s sturdy frame, burying his face in his shoulder and sobbing quietly. Hunk pulled him in for a hug, understanding filling his features. He looked grimly over Lance's head at the others.

“Perhaps it's best if we all made our way back to the Atlas..” Allura said quietly. “Then Lance can be properly looked after and we can attempt to figure out what's going on exactly.” 

Keith and Hunk looked at each other in agreement and Hunk swept Lance up into his arms and started out of the cockpit. Pidge and Allura followed suit, already hailing the Atlas and briefly explaining the situation, as it was. Keith gathered up his discarded bayard and helmet from the floor where he’d thrown them. He briefly cast around, hoping the real Lance was just hiding somewhere in the cabin waiting to pop out and surprise them, but the keening he felt from Red was as much confirmation as Not-Lance's eyes had been.

Lance was _gone_.

 

——————————————————————

 

Hunk took Lance directly to the Med Bay, avoiding Lance's family as best as possible. Most of them would be waiting inside the Garrison’s base for information; His sister Veronica, however, was the Defense Coordinating Officer on the Atlas and she had decided to post up in the quarters on board rather than returning to base. He had no idea how much she knew about their battle and what happened with Lance but he definitely didn't want to be the one to break it to her. And definitely not like this; Lance cradled in his arms, bloodied and bruised with a tear stained face.

Lance had himself back under control by the time they had reached Yellow and sat sniffling in the corner as they flew back to the hangar. When they landed, Hunk thought he would try to walk on his own to the Med Bay but he wobbled precariously when he stood and looked kind of dazed and distant again. Lance had plopped back to the floor so Hunk scooped him back up again. Safe and secure in his arms, Lance started nodding off a bit.

 _That can't be good_ , Hunk thought to himself. _Didn't they mention something about this in that first aid course they made us take our first year? No sleeping with head injuries or something? Probably has a concussion, the dope. Oh man, I work with broken machines not broken people! This is ** _not_** my department! This is why they should have waited until later in our education to teach us first aid. ‘Too early’ I told Lance, ‘it was too soon to be learning how to fix injuries’. And now look at us, 5 years later and I was right! I have no idea what to do_. He vaguely remembered something about keeping the person talking though, to keep them awake, and he could do that. Maybe.

“Man I am so hungry. I could eat a whole tub of green goo right now, I am that hungry. Thankfully, we have a real kitchen with real food now. I might make some homemade pizza.” He said, feigning nonchalance. He hoped that food was a neutral enough topic to keep Lance awake but not upset him. _I mean it's not like we can talk about the stuff that really comes to mind, right? And I definitely can't distract him with talk of his family again. Jesus, poor guy. So yeah. Food_.

Lance glanced up from where he had curled into Hunk’s chest. _Fuck, his eyes_ , Hunk winced inwardly. _I am never gonna get used to that look_. It made his heart ache to think of Lance being in enough pain to alter his personality to such an extent. He was under no illusions that that's what happened. And he wasn't even that surprised, given the cause. Lance's voice echoed in his mind, pained and disbelieving, like someone not daring to believe in something they had never even thought to hope for.

“ _They're alive? All of them_?” 

“How long have you guys been on earth?” Lance asked dully, shaking him from his thoughts. 

 _Ok then. Jumping right into it. Got it. Guess we are gonna talk about what really comes to mind_.

“About 3 months. But we haven't had to eat the goo for a little over a year actually. Not that it was any better living mainly off of protein packs during that time.” Hunk replied, turning a corner. Lance barely responded. Hunk frowned slightly, thinking that their Lance would have chuckled at that or loudly added something dramatic about how it had been the worst road trip ever. This Lance was too quiet. Too serious. _Is it any wonder though_? 

“What happened to the Castle of Lions?”

Hunk looked down at him. “We sent it into a black hole so that it would implode and close like 30 other black holes that Lotor created by jumping in and out of the quintessence field.”

Lance actually looked mildly impressed at this. “There are so many things wrong with that statement, Hunk.”

“Yup.” Hunk agreed simply.

Hunk adjusted his grip as Lance squirmed slightly, throwing an arm around Hunks neck to help secure him and distribute the weight more evenly. 

“And the Atlas?” Lance asked. 

“It's like the Castle of Lions on steroids.” Hunk said with a grin, thinking back to when it had transformed into the hulking robot. “It's large enough to house the entire Garrison plus the Garrison Fleet, PLUS all the Lions. It's so big, they didn't have any way to power it until we got here and put the Castle-of-Lions-Diamond into the power supply-” 

“Castle of Lions Diamond?” Lance interrupted, confused.

“Oh yeah, the black hole crushed the whole thing into a diamond no bigger than Bi-boh Bi’s head, balmeran crystal and all.” Hunk continued unfazed. “With all that power packed into a tiny little punch, Shiro was somehow able to make the Atlas transform into a ginormous robot! You should see it, it makes Voltron look like a baby. It's like a Mama Voltron!” He laughed.

“That's a good one. You should tell that to Pidge.” Lance smiled tiredly. It didn't quite reach his eyes.

Hunk chuckled shortly, “Yeah. I think they made Shiro Captain after that…” he trailed off smiling to himself.

“Seems appropriate.” Lance said dryly. He paused, tensing slightly before asking softly, “Any casualties?”

Hunk sobered as well. “None during that battle. It was a close call, but we were able to save everyone who had survived that far. The Galra took over about a year before we got here though. My family was enslaved for a time, but we were able to rescue them. Shiro apparently had a fiancé before he left for Kerberos though, another fighter pilot in the Garrison. When the Galra attacked, the Admiral sent out all the old fighter jets to meet them rather than risk testing the newer advanced models Commander Holt created. Something about not trusting this with cadets just out of school. Anyway, they all died in the attempt. Shiro won’t talk to anyone about it, not even Keith.”

Lance nodded to himself, seeming distant. They continued on in silence after that.

Hunk kept an eye on Lance to make sure he didn't fall asleep while simultaneously looking for any signs of Veronica, peering this way and that, looking over his shoulder like he was hiding something. Which he was, technically. _I feel like I have a nervous twitch_ , he thought to himself, _looking around, acting all sketchy_.

He made his way down the last corridor with no signs of trouble and entered the Med Bay, automatic doors whooshing closed behind him. He handed Lance over to the care of the nursing staff, placing him in a wheelchair to be carted off to the triage area. Lance looked up and said, “Sorry about calling you an idiot earlier.”

Hunk placed a hand on Lance's shoulder, smiling warmly. “I'll save you a slice of pizza, yeah?”

Lance returned another not-quite-authentic smile of his own. “Sure, man. Sounds good.” And with that they turned away, Lances shoulders sagging slightly as he went back to brooding by himself.

Hunk turned to leave and the doors of the Med Bay whooshed open, only for him to come face to face with none other than Veronica McClain. He knew it had been too good to be true, way too easy to sneak Lance in all the way from the Lion Hangar. _Argh, I hate when I'm right_! He couldn't hide his groan at the sight of her though.

Lance's older sister was the tallest of the McClain girls, but even she was no match against Hunk’s towering height. She anxiously tried to peer around himand she practically growled in frustration when he wouldn't budge.

“Where is he Hunk?” She ground out, still valiantly attempting to look over his shoulders.

“Veronica-”

“ **Don't** ‘ _Veronica_ ’ me Hunk Garret! They wouldn't tell me anything, and I did not spend 4 years thinking him dead only for him to be kept away from me right under my nose! Now let me in so I can. See. _Mi_. _Hermano_!” She punctuated the last words each with a hard poke in the chest, the other hand resting dramatically on her hip.

Hunk had been Lance's friend since they started middle school, so he was no stranger to being pushed around by Lance's older siblings; It was just part of being inducted into the family. The other part of being inducted into the family was holding your own when they tried to pull their stunts. Hunk had never quite mastered that part, but they accepted him as one of their own anyway.

 _C’mon Hunk, you're a Paladin of Voltron! Defender of the Universe! You've taken on way scarier things than this_!

No he hadn't. That was a nice, cushy lie he told himself while staring down the face of righteous fury mixed strongly with worry and fear.

He sighed and steered Veronica by the shoulders away from the doors and into the hall. She continued to glare up at him through her glasses but allowed herself to be led away, sensing at least an explanation.

“What happened?” She snapped. Her frame was rigid and arms tight across her chest as she tapped her foot impatiently. “We heard you guys on the comms but Shiro cut the feed when you and Pidge started rambling to each other. He kept it on a private link with Allura after that. He rushed out looking as if he had just tried _papaya_ for the first time!”

Hunk, who had picked up bits and pieces of Cuban-Spanish over the years, snorted at the image of his Awkward-Gay Space Dad making a slightly ill, mildly concerned face and hurrying away while trying to act as if everything were fine. It was doubly funny because he happened to know for a fact that _actual_ papaya gave Shiro the runs. The image applied universally. Veronica smirked slightly at her joke as well, relaxing just a bit.

“Lance is fine,” Hunk began delicately, “he’s not seriously injured or anything. Couple sctratches, some bruising. Maybe a mild concussion.”

Veronica sagged a little more in relief, suspicion still clouding her face. “But…” she prompted.

“But… He's not—Lance is… different.” He ended lamely.

She stood up straight again. “Different how?” She demanded.

Hunk shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. _How much was he allowed to tell her_? He fidgeted with the clasps on his armor, considering. “Listen, I’ll tell you what we think we know, but you have to understand that this is just speculation at this point. We haven't confirmed anything with Lance yet.” _As if we even have to ask_ , he scoffed to himself. “Which means you can't repeat what I'm about to tell you. _To anyone_.” He squinted meaningfully, “You understand?”

Veronica nodded guardedly.

“Pidge and I think that Lance has been… transported to another reality. And that reality's Lance was replaced here with us.” He said cautiously, watching her face for any sign of an explosion.

“What?! Why?! How?!” She hissed, eyes going wide in alarm. “That's a thing that can happen?!?”

“We've been to another reality before, we told you about that, remember? Like I said this is just speculation, we have no idea how Haggar managed it yet. When we went before it involved a huge hole through the quintessence field between realities; it was a way different situation than this.” He paused letting that sink in. “When we entered the Red Lion, Lance wasn't wearing his Paladin armor. He was in his civilian clothes. And he had no memory of us returning to earth, or losing the Castle of Lions.” He hugged himself, bracing for the next part. “The worst of it was, like I said, Lance- this Lance… is different. It wasn't immediately noticeable, but when you look in his eyes… He's been through some shit. Something happened in his reality that he hasn't come back from.”

Veronica was holding her breath. “What?” She whispered.

Hunk looked into her eyes, the same blue as Lance's, his own glistening at the thought of the contrast between the two.  _In for a penny_... He thought  

“His family died. Every one of you, in his reality, is gone. I've never seen him so broken before, and I hope to god it's something I never have to see in our Lance.”

Horror stole across her face, tears welling up fat and uncontrollable along her lower lids before slipping past her defenses and rolling down her cheeks. “ _Bendita Madre ayudalo_ ,” she breathed. She made to push past him suddenly and he caught her small frame in his arms, holding her back. “I have to go see him Hunk! Let me go! I have to show him we're alive!!” She yelled through her tears, trying to fight him off.

“Veronica, stop! You can't! That would be cruel,” he told her, “if our theory is correct and he is from another reality, we have to send him back! We have to send him back to a reality where _his_ family _isn't_ , if we want to get our Lance back. And you can't torture this Lance with the ghost of someone he knows to be dead, just to comfort yourself!” He hadn't meant it to sound so harsh and he hugged her tightly to make up for it, supporting her now limp body as, for the second time that day, a McClain cried on his shoulder.

“We have to focus on saving _our_ Lance, Veronica…” he murmured into her hair, silently crying himself. He knew how difficult it was to reconcile the broken and jaded young man he left in the Med Bay with the exuberant and open version he grew up with, but he had to remember the distinction or risk getting caught up in trying to save the person wearing his best friend's face right now.

She pulled away and looked up at him, tear tracks running down her long face mirroring his own. “You're scared.” She said.

“I'm terrified. I'm as scared as I was at the thought of losing my own family.” He admitted quietly, looking away. “We have to find Lance. If this was a clean swap, we can't leave him in that reality, no matter what. And if it wasn't, there's no telling where he is or what he's going through.”

“We'll find him” she vowed. “We won't stop until wefind him and bring him home.”

Hunk nodded and threw an arm over her shoulder, squeezing lightly in a one armed hug, as they made their way toward the command center to find the rest of the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> joder tu madre- fuck your mother  
> hijo de puta- son of a bitch  
> Papaya- Cuban slang for female anatomy  
> Mi hermano- my brother  
> Bendita Madre ayudalo- Blessed mother help him
> 
>  
> 
> Hi guys, thanks for reading! This is the first story I’ve ever attempted to write, so I’m really excited to hear what you think and all constructive criticism is good criticism! It was not beta’d at all (que plug for anyone willing to take that on, hit me up) so bear with me on that. Also, I have actually been working on this story for months now, and I have at least one, possibly two more chapters almost done but there really is no rhyme or reason to my posting schedule, sorry. 
> 
> I started this story because I really relate to Lance and I was having a rough time of it for a while with my anxiety and depression so I wanted to do a study piece where Lance experiences my worst fear and how he would get through that. Everything Alternate Reality Lance does is something I could see myself doing under similar circumstances, so that character is always exactly how I want it to be. However I’m more of an essay writer than a story writer and I’m not 100% sure I’ll get everyone else just right. So If you notice anything Ooc for anyone else let me know, so I can try to improve them as we go on. 
> 
> Another note, I am not a native Spanish speaker and I am relying on the World Wide Web for Cuban Spanish translations and slang so if anything seems amiss, let me know about that too! Any errors and discrepancies are purely by accident and in no way intentional. 
> 
> Thanks again!


	2. Some get angry; Some get drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He reminds me of you.” Shiro glanced over his shoulder at Keith's mop of black hair and red Garrison uniform. “When you first started at the Garrison. You were so eager to prove yourself and be a good cadet, and yet your temper…” He trailed off with a shake of the head. He turned to the dusky outline of his brother. 
> 
> “He's going to need a friend here.” Shiro told him. 
> 
> Keith didn't turn around. He was resolutely glaring out the window again as if he just stared hard enough, long enough he would be able to pinpoint Lance's exact location. 
> 
>  
> 
> Shiro meets the alternate reality Lance and draws comparisons, but Keith is sure he isn’t the best man for the job Shiro has in mind. Meanwhile, Lance comes to terms with his new reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad chapter is sad. Have some extra helpings of angst. Things will get better, I promise. 
> 
> Warning: graphic depiction of a man spiraling in the face of an impossible situation. Moderate-Major(?) panic attack and heavy drinking after the break. The scale is up for debate (I only have my own anxiety to base it off of...), but it is pretty detailed so proceed with caution.

The team had gathered in one of the lounges on board the Atlas. A ship as large as she was, capable of holding as many people as she was, had a good deal of community spaces. This particular lounge was one the Paladins naturally gravitated towards because it was similar in size and atmosphere to the one they had grown used to in the Castle of Lions. It was a nice mid-sized room with a wide viewing wall that let in plenty of natural light. That combination lent a more airy feel than some of the smaller community spaces, without making it feel as expansive and cold as the larger rooms could be.

Veronica left moments earlier, nearly sprinting out after being given the all clear to tell the rest of the McClain Clan the situation but with strict instructions to keep it among the family for now. They had spent hours going over what happened, possible explanations, and how they might switch the two Lances back. Hunk and Pidge sat on one of the large white sofas with little orange accents along the arms and back; Hunk rested his head in his hands exaustedly and Pidge was making a valiant effort to keep her eyes open beside him, having gotten very little sleep the night before. Keith paced the length of the sofa behind the two of them.

“You should all get some rest. You did good work today.” Shiro sighed. He was standing across the room, the light from the setting sun steaming in behind him and silhouetting his tense posture. He unfurled his arms as he turned toward Allura. “We’ll have to meet with a few of the ranking officers from the Garrison first thing tomorrow morning. We should talk to Ryner as well, perhaps the Olkari will be able to help us get some information from the wreckage of the robeast.”

“I will speak with her tonight and ask her to attend the meeting with the Garrison. She should have all the details of the incident, in case she can pick up on something we didn't.” Allura replied, standing from the chair she had chosen near the other Paladins.

Coran came in returning from the kitchens with six cups of piping hot tea, bringing an end to their meeting. He had been brushing up on Earthen customs over the past few months, using a combination of YouTube videos and an antique Book of British Etiquette from the 1950’s he found in the Garrison Library. As a result, the first time he attempted to serve the team tea he refused to give anyone a cup without their explicit consent. Once they had realized what was happening Pidge and Lance had fallen to the floor, rolling with laughter, while Hunk strained to keep a straight face and explain that that _particular_ video was less about tea and more of an analogy for sexual consent.

He placed the tray of tea on the coffee table and took one for himself. “Do you want me to accompany you, Princess?” He asked.

“No that's alright, Coran, I can manage. I'll be going to bed soon after I find her I think anyway. It's been quite the long day…” Allura sighed.

Coran hummed his understanding and sipped at his cup. Allura bid the team goodnight and, taking her cup with her, made her way down the hall to find Ryner. Keith had come to stand by the viewing wall, ignoring the tea altogether, arms crossed tightly across his chest. He still hadn't changed from his Paladin armor yet and the sunlight glinted off the polished white surface.

Hunk sat up, yawning hugely. “I think I'm gonna go to bed too.” He took a cup of tea and blew on it before taking a large gulp and setting it back down half finished. He turned and nudged Pidge who had lost the fight with her heavy eyelids, and she fell sideways onto the arm of the couch before startling awake. She nodded when Hunk motioned for the door and stood up blearily. “Night guys.” Hunk said, guiding Pidge by the shoulder. She waved vaguely to the others and mumbled something under her breath that might have been a ‘G’nite’ as she allowed herself to be steered back to her quarters. 

As they left, Coran turned to Shiro and Keith. “Where's Lance now?” He asked quietly. 

“Hunk dropped the AR Lance off in the Med Bay a few hours ago.” Keith replied without turning around, “Where our Lance went is anyone's guess at this point.”

Shiro glanced at Keith as he elaborated. “Hunk and Pidge both think it likely that it was an even swap-” Keith scoffed at this, “since he was replaced with an alternate version of himself in this reality, but it's impossible to tell for sure.”

“Not without understanding exactly how that beam worked.” Coran finished.

“Exactly.” Shiro nodded, turning his gaze to the setting sun outside.

They stood in silence for a moment. At the sound of a throat clearing from the doorway, the three of them turned to see who had joined them. Keith immediately turned back to the window scowling and hunching in on himself, frame more rigid than ever.

“Lance,” Shiro greeted kindly, “it's good to see you up and about. Nothing too severe then I take it?”

“No, thank you Commander, just some cuts and bruises.” Lance said.

Shiro’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise at the formal use of his rank but didn't comment. He looked a little closer at the young man leaning against the doorframe. He could see in his posture how similar he was to their version of Lance, but also how different; the line of strain radiating down his spine to his limbs, Lance was putting a great deal of effort into appearing relaxed and unconcerned about his situation.

Shiro nodded. “Has anyone filled you in on what happened?” He asked gesturing to the couch in front of him, offering a seat.

Lance declined with a slight shake of the head. He walked closer nonetheless, coming to stand behind the couch instead. Shiro shrewdly recognized the attempt to keep some distance and not fall into a sense of security in an unfamiliar environment. He had done the same himself many times after all. It was odd however having a familiar face watching them so closely, carefully guarding his expression. He couldn't hide the emotions in his eyes as easily, however much he tried, and it was even more disconcerting to find that everyone's description of those eyes were spot on. 

“Not specifically, but Hunk filled me in on enough of what happened with you guys for me to take a fairly good guess. Speaking of which, I heard you got a promotion, right?” Lance appreciatively raised an eyebrow, “So that would make you Captain Shirogane, not Commander. Did they make you pay for it with half your arm?” He asked drily, nodding to Shiro's new prosthetic limb floating beside him. 

“Something like that.” Shiro chuckled. 

Lance gave a half smile in congratulations. “So, different dimension I'm guessing? Do we have any leads on that?” he asked, already getting back to business.

“Not yet, my boy. We haven't had a chance to study the ship or mechanisms of the beam that transported you across realities, and it's the key to getting you back as we have no other means of reversing the effects.” Coran said. He picked up the tray of tea, cold by now, and offered it to Lance. Lance accepted with a quick “Thanks” and took a drink. Shiro watched him make a small face at the bitter flavor, but he didn't set the cup down.

“What about Voltron? It can travel through the quintessence field right? Can we fly across it and switch us back?”

“Unfortunately not. Even if it were advisable given the damage that breaching the quintessence field causes, there's no way of predicting which reality you would come out in on the other side.” Coran explained. 

“Pidge, Hunk and the Holts are going to start work analyzing the components of the robeast tomorrow, hopefully with some help from the Olkari as well.” Shiro told him. “With any luck, we'll have a good understanding of what Haggar did exactly and how to reverse it within a week or two.”

Lance nodded thoughtfully. “And until then?” He asked.

“We keep a low profile. It's not a secret necessarily, but we shouldn't go around advertising that one of the Paladins of Voltron is…”

“Missing.” Keith supplied harshly. 

Lance's gaze cut to Keith’s back across the room. “What's that suppose to mean?” He asked menacingly.

“Don't mind him. Our Lance is his right hand, he's having a difficult time adjusting to the situation. Something we all have in common, which Keith should try to remember.” Shiro sighed tiredly, giving the back of Keith's head a pointed look. 

“No no, if he has something to say to me I want to hear it!” Lance shot at Keith gesturing wildly. 

Keith rose to the bait, like he always did with Lance -alternate reality version or not. He slowly turned on the spot to stare Lance down. “It means we're down a Paladin and it makes us vulnerable.”

“Hey!! I’m right here! I may not be from this dimension but I'm still a Defender of the Universe, and that includes this one!” His face contorted in righteous anger as he leaned across the back of the couch, tea sloshing down the sides of his cup. 

“You think because you look like our Lance we're going to trust you at our backs?” Keith scoffed. “You're an unknown variable. We don't even know if Red will let you pilot him.” He said, jabbing a finger in Lance's direction accusingly. 

“Setting that problem aside for another day,” Shiro interrupted forcefully, halting the argument in its tracks, “what Keith is trying to say is that unfortunately we _are_ at a distinct disadvantage even with you acting as a stand-in for our Lance. He's right in assessing that despite your looks, your fighting style and background are likely to be different from what we have come to expect and it will impact how the team works together. If you're serious about stepping in, then we should start regular training drills with the rest of the team. Tomorrow if you're up for it, but the day after at the latest.”

Lance shot Keith a scathing look, but nodded and otherwise relaxed back into his would-be indifferent stance.

“You must be hungry, Number 3! Hunk made a delightful dish earlier, something called ‘pizza’; I believe there’s still some leftover in the kitchens.” Coran exclaimed excitedly, clearly trying to change the subject. “It was a close thing though, we had a heck of a time keeping Romelle from eating all of it herself.”

Lance's jaw twitched and one hand flexed at his side before he nodded. “Sounds great, Coran.” He said tersely. “One more thing, sir,” Lance looked back at Shiro. “What about my-” he broke of with a tight lipped grimace and a shake of the head, looking as though he swallowed something unpleasant. “What of the McClains? What will they be told?” 

“The truth.” 

“Good. That's good.” He said distractedly. He appeared to steel himself for the next question. “And are they-are they nearby?” 

Shiro nodded, “Most of them have been given quarters inside the Garrison with the rest of the refugees. Veronica is an officer here on the Atlas however, so she lives onboard. We can arrange for you to see-”

“I don't want to see them.” Lance cut him off, speaking quickly and jerking his head. “I don't … if that's possible. I'm sorry. Will you pass them my regrets as well?” He asked stiffly. His eyes were hard and determined, fixated on a space on the wall ahead of him.

“Of course, if that's what you want…” Shiro replied, somewhat taken aback.

Lance nodded, the tiniest amount of tension leaving his shoulders. He looked away, gaze turning distant. “Certain circumstances in my reality have- I couldn't-” he broke off. “It would just be best if I didn't.” He finished, looking at the floor in distress. He rubbed his neck absentmindedly. 

Shiro looked at him for a long time. The other’s assessment of this Lance was not wrong, but Shiro thought he could sense the reasoning behind it. It was a feeling that they were not very different; but where Shiro tried his utmost to hide his pain, bury it until it could never see the light of day, this Lance seemed to wear it as a set of armor. And it looked to be cracking under the strain of being so near whoever he lost.

“I will inform the McClains of your request. I can't guarantee you won't see Veronica from time to time, but I will ask her to respect your decision to not speak.” 

Lance released the breath Shiro hadn't realized he’d been holding. He looked up at shiro with an unreadable mixed expression. Maybe Lance could see him for what he was too.

“Alright then.” Lance said with finality. “Captain. _Kogane_.” He nodded again at Shiro and sneered at Keith as he departed, following Coran toward the Kitchens.

  

Shiro watched him carefully as he left. He appeared normal again, whatever normal was for this version of Lance, but he hadn't missed the flare of irritation in his eyes when Coran had called him ‘Number 3’, nor the short fused fury during his argument with Keith.

“He reminds me of you.” Shiro glanced over his shoulder at Keith's mop of black hair and red armor. “When you first started at the Garrison. You were so eager to prove yourself and be a good cadet, and yet your _temper_ …” He trailed off with a shake of the head. He turned to the dusky outline of his brother.

“He's going to need a friend here.” Shiro told him.

Keith didn't turn around. He was resolutely glaring out the window again as if he just stared hard enough, long enough he would be able to pinpoint Lance's exact location. “He has Hunk.”

“He's going to need a friend who understands what he's going through.” 

“Hunk understands him. They're best friends,” Keith countered obstinately.

Shiro sighed and collapsed onto a nearby chair, shedding his commanding persona like he usually did around Keith.

“Hunk logically understands. He won't really know what it's like.” Shiro continued boring a hole in Keith's back with his gaze until Keith finally turned to face him. “Besides _our_ Hunk understands _our_ Lance and is _his_ friend. We don't know it's the same for this Lance. He doesn't exactly exude an overly friendly disposition.”

“But why me? Our lance didn't even like me that much and he likes everyone, why would this one be any more willing to talk to me?” Keith asked, an air of desperation seeping into his words. 

“I think we both know that's not true.” Shiro shot him his patented you're-not-fooling-anyone look, and Keith looked away sheepishly.

“You are the only one with any real chance of connecting with him. He's angry Keith, and he needs to be supervised at the very least; He has a lot more power at his disposal than a 13 year old Garrison cadet. It'll be a lot easier to do that if you're at least on speaking terms.” Shiro raised an eyebrow pointedly before continuing. “From what I've seen of him he's still Lance. He just needs someone to watch his back for him right now.” 

Keith pouted a minute longer before nodding sullenly. “What about trying to get our Lance back?” He asked miserably. Shiro could see the lines of worry etched into Keith's young face. He stood and wrapped Keith in a hug. 

“We're going to do everything we can to get him back as soon as possible.” 

Keith slowly unfurled his arms from across his chest and hugged Shiro tightly, nodding into his shoulder. “I know.” He whispered. “Shiro I— I just wasted so much time. I'm scared we'll never get him back and I won't ever be able to tell him how important he is to us. To _me_.” Keith confessed in the smallest voice Shiro had ever heard him use.

“I know, Keith. I know.” Shiro gripped him tighter, thinking of Adam. “We'll get him back.”

 

——————————————————————

  

Lance left the Kitchens as soon as he could.

Hunk’s pizza was killer, hell having Earth food in general was a godsend by itself, let alone combining that with Hunk’s cooking. However, the weird looks Hunk and Coran kept shooting at him when they thought he wasn't looking were less appealing.

Hunk had been waiting for them when Lance and Coran arrived, saying he couldn't miss the look on Lance's face when he tried Earth food for the first time in years. He scoffed down the remaining 3 slices as quickly as they would fit in his mouth and made his escape, claiming exhaustion. Nobody questioned it; Hunk himself looked dead on his feet.

The fact was he _was_ exhausted, mentally and physically. He suspected that traveling across dimensions the way he did took a toll on a body, seeing as he hadn't done anything else remarkable today.

His nerves were frayed too; one hand nervously thumbed an old space rock he kept in his pocket while the other jittered and tapped at his side. Being tired always made him cranky but add to that waking up in someone else's reality? _Learning that in **this** reality his **fam**_ —

Lance cut that thought off, brutally squashing the hope that continuously attempted to worm its way into his heart. He couldn't afford to think of them as his family. He couldn't afford to think of them _at all_ and yet….

Images flashed across his mind; long thought forgotten expressions on his mother's face or his father playfully teasing his mother while she cooked dinner, the games he used to play with his siblings repeatedly until he could finally triumph over the lot of them. Not quite fully fledged memories, he never looked at them closely enough for those to form, his minds eye skittered over vague ideas and feelings like they would burn him if he focused on any one of them for too long. Just knowing they were _so close_ —

He was never going to get to sleep tonight.

 _Not without a little help_ , he thought to himself. A ship this size there had to be some form of a bar or cantina on board for the crew during their off duty hours.

Lance pulled out the Communication Tablet Coran had given him so he would be able to get in touch with the other Paladins. Hunk had mentioned that it had all sorts of information stored onto it and was able to access even more if he had any questions about the reality he found himself in. Surely it had a map of the Atlas stored there too.

The map wasn't hard to find, and he quickly assessed where he was on it. He spotted the little martini glass on the map not far from his location and made his way down the hall. A few turns later, Lance came face to face with a room labeled ‘OUTPOST 42’ across the top of the doorway. He marched inside and waded through the slight crowd of people between him and the bar. He glared at anyone who even slightly looked sideways at him, and they quickly made way. He was used to people giving him his distance now; all he ever had to do was look at a person, let the rage show through just a bit, and they always backed down.

He let his mind wander, fantasizing about someone asking him how he did it? How he always got a crowd to part just by looking angry? _Well that's the secret_ , he’d say, _I'm always angry_. He smirked to himself, imagining using that corny old movie line, as he waved to the bartender.

“What can I get ya?” He asked, drying a glass and setting it under the counter.

“Shot of vodka. Top shelf.”

The bartender nodded and turned to get the supplies. He poured the shot and made to put the bottle back when Lance reached out and grabbed his arm. 

“Leave the bottle.

He set the bottle back down giving Lance an odd look. Lance glared back up at him through his bangs, hunched over the counter, and the bartender shrugged it off as he turned to tend the rest of his customers.

Lance downed the shot in front of him and poured another, throwing it back just as quickly. He breathed through the burning in his chest and throat, trying to stave off a panic attack.

Another shot. And another. One more.

He could feel the restless energy coursing through his veins making him want to run and never stop; the tell-tale pit forming right at the top of his stomach, like that brief moment of pressure right before vomiting as the smooth muscle prepares to contract and expel all the contents. 

Lance pulled the pour spout out of the mouth of the bottle and slapped it on the counter, standing. Motioning to the bartender he waved the bottle in the air and called, “Put it on my tab!” Then he turned and walked out the door, ignoring the shouts of the bartender behind him, completely unconcerned about the existence of a tab at all.

He stormed down the halls, heart racing, somehow managing to avoidalmost everyone in the Atlas. He only met a few people as he walked and none of them were stupid enough to say anything to him about the liquor in his hand.

“ _Yeah man, they’re fine_!”

 _They're fine… they're fine_.. He gulped at the vodka, letting it burn its way across his taste buds and down his throat to settle in his chest and stoke the fire that continuously burned there. 

“ _Most of them have been given quarters inside the Garrison…Veronica is an officer here on the Atlas however, so she lives onboard_.” 

He took a drink. 

 _They're all alive, but they aren't yours, idiot. **Your** family is dead. They're dead, and it's all your fault_. 

Lance took a drink. 

It was becoming harder and harder to fill his lungs with air, breath becoming ragged as he forced it past the lump forming in his throat, trying and failing to squash the ever expanding pit in his stomach; he was suffocating as his lungs were slowly constricted by his own mutinous body. He desperately clutched at the space rock, turning it over and over in his pocket as he speed walked through the unfamiliar spaceship. All he could do was keep moving, as if somehow he could put some physical distance between him and this irrational feeling coursing through him.

He hadn't known where he was going, only following his feet as they continued forward without his consent. It wasn't until the cool night air broke onto his face that he realized he had somehow ended up on top of the Atlas itself, looking up into the cool clouded sky that had whisked him away so long ago.

For just a second it was perfect, being back on earth with constellations he recognized in the sky and a light breeze that smelled familiar.

Then suddenly it was too much, way too much, and he was choking on the cool desert air around him.  

His vision blurred as hot tears overwhelmed his eyes, lingering for just a moment before cascading down his cheeks, and then the damn broke and his breath came snapping back in a heaving, gut wrenching sob. He sunk to his knees, curling in on himself, trying to keep himself in one piece as he came flying apart at the seams. He screamed and cried like he hadn't since those first few weeks after he lost them all. All the rage and torment he had been building up for god knows how long, unleashed itself as he pounded his fist on the hull of the ship over and over again, using the pain to ground himself to reality. 

He was all alone, now more than ever, and if there was one thing he learned in this miserable life it's that you can't rely on anyone else to save you. Things happen and people fail, and in the end all you can really count on is yourself. 

Lance slowly picked himself up off the floor, long legs still tucked beneath him as he stared dumbly up at the sky, hoping it would give him the answers to questions he didn't even know how to form into actual words.

A long time ago, he used to stare at the stars in wonder; planning his expeditions and adventures. The stars had always been a source of excitement and solace to him, _knowing_ deep in his bones that he was meant to be among them. The excitement was gone now, snuffed out with all the other casualties of war, but they were somehow still a source of comfort and solace.

He hated himself for it. He didn't deserve comfort, especially not from the very thing that swept him away from his family and left them vulnerable to the destruction he unleashed on them.

Lance tore his gaze away bitterly and took another drink, this one smaller and with less feeling behind it. He let his arm fall to his side again, the liquor sloshing in the bottle, and looked dejectedly around him.

 _Maybe I’ll be able to get some decent sleep now_ , he thought sluggishly.

He looked down and realized with some surprise that he had been clutching his worry stone the whole time. He stood shakily and placed it back in his pocket.

The hatch to the roof he had climbed through stood open to his left. He made his way to it, stumbling a little on his way down the ladder. His legs felt heavy and detached from his body, like they were finally ready to relinquish control over his destination but his brain wasn't ready to take the helm just yet. He pulled out the Comm Tab again and consulted his map, squinting at the screen to make the letters stay still. He blinked hard a few times and they stopped dancing long enough for him to locate the barracks.

Once he navigated his way back through the maze of endlessly similar hallways, he finally found his room by swiping the Comm Tab against every lock until he found one programmed to work for his Id. He set the bottle of Vodka on the nightstand and crashed onto the bed, letting the darkness swallow him whole. 

 

Lance woke the next morning, greeted by sunlight spearing through his eyes straight to the back of his head and ricocheting across the inside of his skull. He turned over with a grunt and sat up, blindly groping for anything that would tell him the time. His hand landed on the Comm Tab that had been crushed underneath him when he collapsed on the bed last night.

6:30 am. _Figures_. 

Lance had never been able to sleep in on a hangover, the only time in his _life_ he could wake up early without an alarm blaring at him. He glanced at the nearly empty bottle on the nightstand and grimaced. He hadn't let himself go that far in a while.

Standing, he slowly made his way to the bathroom. He showered, feeling the whole time as if he had left his stomach in bed. When he finished, he brushed his teeth twice and stared into the mirror while he shaved. He thought about the way everyone had been looking at him since he got here. It was obvious he was very different from their version of Lance. _Duh_ , he rolled his eyes. But he must not look very different physically, judging by the way the recognition slips from their face to be replaced with blank shock anytime he looks them in the eyes.

 _Veronica is an officer here on the Atlas, she lives onboard_.

Lance looked into his own eyes staring back at him in the mirror.

 _I need to change my look_. Maybe adding a small element of disguise to his general low profile would be enough to shield him from any chance encounters with his sis- with Veronica. _And cut down on the number of heart attacks I cause the team. Shock value is only worth so much, you know_. Lance bent to the sink and took a long drink from the faucet. He would only ever admit to the darkest corners of his heart that it was also partly a way to separate him from this reality’s version of himself— and by extension that version’s family. He would need all the distance he could manage to make it through this, literal and figurative alike.

 _Right. So we're taking a trip to the barber today. But first: something greasy_ , he thought grimly, trudging out the door to the kitchens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading :D
> 
> The video they had to explain to coran can be found here, if anyone doesn’t know the one I’m talking about. https://youtu.be/oQbei5JGiT8
> 
> Also for this one, because I am inherently lazy, we’re going to assume either (a) the govt has rightfully taken its nose out of the business of legal adults and lowered the drinking age to 18, (b) Lance is actually 21 here and the bartender just knows this about him because I don’t know, he’s a low-key fan or something, or (c) the bartender knows he’s a paladin of voltron, savior of earth and defender of the universe and is just super chill about bending the rules for such people. Which Lance promptly takes advantage of hahaha. Either way, pick your poison and most acceptable explanation and merrily skip right along to other bits of the show. 
> 
> Again any critique is more than welcome and appreciated!


	3. Raindrops on Roses, Whiskers on Kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance shot him a crooked, wolfish grin. “I went to get my hair cut this morning and said ‘give me your best space-pirate look.’ Seems they got it right.” 
> 
> “Uh huh,” Keith intoned, “Did they throw in the piercings for free?”
> 
> “No, I had to pay extra for those,” Lance said.
> 
>  
> 
> Mama Kogane swoops in with some much needed advice, and Lance gets a haircut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna be completely straight with you guys. I’m not thrilled with this chapter. It’s mainly filler and bridgework with a lot of dialogue. I stared at it for days and the writing genies left me for dead with this chapter, so you’re stuck with whatever this is.
> 
> #Boring chapter is boring.

Keith woke early the next morning still unsettled and angry, so he decided to go for a run to clear his mind and calm his nerves before he attempted to examine the reasons why. 

When he was younger he never liked thinking about his problems, preferring to ignore them on the surface level and let them stew in the back of his mind forever. After spending two years stranded on the back of a space whale forcing him to look at all kinds of painful things, however, he's gotten immeasurably better at working through life's difficulties. He could see the value in doing it now too, where before he couldn't see any point.

Keith quickly dressed in warm running clothes and he and Kosmo escaped the confines of the Atlas's walls, tearing into the brisk morning air. They ran until his lungs burned and his legs shook before they turned and began the jog back, playing fetch with a small stick they found along the way.

When they got back, Keith showered and then made his way to the Lion’s Hangar, grabbing a granola bar from the mess hall on the way. He sat down in the pilot seat of the Black Lion and began a systems check. As he did, he thought back to the events of the day before.

He thought about the terror he felt from the moment the robeast aimed those lasers at Red to the moment he had Lance in his arms. He thought about the moment he really looked at Lance and saw _those eyes_ , and the way it pulled the air from his lungs. He thought about fighting with the AR Lance, guilt and shame creeping up his neck as he remembered the way he lost his temper in the face of a crisis.

“Keith.” Krolia greeted him as she climbed into the cockpit.

He glanced at her and grunted in response before returning to the Black Lion, distracted. “Kolivan and I will be leaving soon on our mission. There are still a great deal of Blades missing; it is imperative we find as many remaining members as possible and bring them back together in the fight against Haggar.” She said, leaning casually against the console beside him.

Keith nodded, “I read about that in one of my reports. When do you leave?”

Krolia watched him, arms crossed against her chest. “We leave tomorrow, at 0530 earth military time.”

Silence fell as she continued to watch him diligently tend to his already pristine ship.

“I… heard about Lance. Is everything all right?” She asked hesitantly.

“Fine. Pidge and Hunk are working tirelessly to understand the mechanics of the beam Haggar used, Coran and Allura are continuing the research on the original robeast we took down hoping there might be some connection or clue. The Olkari were asked to assist where they could and have been very helpful I'm told. I believe Slav is consulting with Pidge and Hunk as well, but you know how he talks in cirlcles. So progressing as well as can be expected.” Keith relayed the information as professionally as possible, but he thought maybe he came across as robotic in the process.

“That's good.” Krolia paused, then said “I was thinking more of you when I asked, though.”

He wanted to put on a brave face and tell her he was fine too, but this was his Mom; he didn't need to hold himself together for her like he did for the team and it would be easier to do that later if he got this off his chest now.

Keith closed his eyes for a long moment before finally looking at her. 

“When Shiro first disappeared, and the Black Lion chose me to be the leader of Voltron, I was so unsure of myself. I knew we had to continue Voltron’s mission, that the fate of the universe depended on it, but Shiro was just gone and — All I wanted to do was to find him and give him his position back! Lance… Lance was the only one who knew how to bring me back to reality. Hereminded me that Shiro would be the first to move on and stay dedicated to the cause. We didn't even have any clues to go off of to find him, and we had wasted enough time already in the search.” Keith paused, turning back to the front and staring out the windows into the bay below. “Then later when I led the team into a disastrous situation trying to confront Lotor for the first time, half of us in new lions and new roles to the team, Lance stayed by my side but didn't coddle me. Heflat out told me I had messed up but never once held it against me and helped me focus on fixing things. He helped me become the leader Shiro knew I could be. He's always had my back. Shiro may be my brother, but Lance… Lance is my right hand, and my _best_ friend. I never knew what it was like to have that before Lance.” Keith stopped then, suddenly unsure how to continue, how to relay what was really bothering him right now. Krolia remained silent, allowing him to gather his thoughts.

“I am scared; for Lance, for the team — he means so much to all of us and I don't think he even knows! Sometimes I'm not sure everyone else remembers how vital he is to our team either.” He mused to himself. “But what I'm really worried about, besides the terrifying possibility of never seeing him again and making sure he knows what he means to me— er, the team,” he glanced away rubbing his neck, feeling the blush creeping up and staining his skin.

He tried again, looking right into his Mom’s warm eyes.“What I'm really worried about, is how I'm going to be able to lead without him. He's what keeps me stable and level headed when things get rocky; Hell, I've already started falling back into my old hot headed arguments with this alternate version of him! I should have remembered that he was probably feeling lost and confused too. I should have thought about the real problem and how to solve it. I should have acted like their leader and not a scared little boy, dependent on someone else to hold his emotions in check!” He pounded his fist against the arm of his chair, breathing heavily, eyes stinging with unshed tears. He looked away again, scowling and pinching the bridge of his nose till he felt in control again. “I hate how selfish that sounds. I do want to get Lance back for better reasons than that, I'm just not sure without Lance here that I'll be able to do it” he finished softly.

Krolia approached slowly and put her arms around his shoulders, drawing him into her. He let himself be comforted in that small way for a moment, then she said, “It's ok to be dependent on the people around you.Forming bonds like the ones you have forged with your teammates only make each of you stronger, not weaker. It allows you to learn from one another and to be there for each other when it becomes too difficult to stand on your own.” She stroked his hair and then sat him up, hands on his shoulders holding him in place and looked into his eyes. “But you also have to have faith in your own strength and remember what you learn along the way through those bonds. You may be dependent on Lance, but I don't think it's in the way you think. It seems to me he gave you those lessons when you needed them most, and you remember them. You know what to do and how to do it. A momentary lapse in the face of possibly losing one you love— yes, love Keith, I've seen it before with you two long before the slip up in your speech,” she gave him a wry knowing look, “a brief slip in your role as leader while processing the loss of your closest companion, does not mean you can't function as leader entirely.”

Keith thought about her words. “But… what if I'm _too_ reliant on him? As leader I should be more capable on my own, and it _does_ only make me weaker when he isn't here.” 

“That's not true. Just because he isn't here physically doesn't mean he doesn't linger with you. When I left earth to continue fighting, your father was always with me. I could imagine his pride with our victories, and I could hear his wise and consoling words with our losses. I still do. You _know_ Lance, and you know what he would say to you now. Keeping his memory with you, whether he is gone forever or only temporarily absent, becomes your strength.” Krolia said.

Keith nodded, processing. “Thanks, Mom.” He said. He hated thinking Lance could be gone forever but he appreciated her frankness and her advice. He had to hold onto that, so he could focus on the mission once again. This time, though, the mission was finding and rescuing the one he loved.

“This alternate Lance is so different,” He mused quietly, “and yet, there are still things about him that are familiar. Shiro says he's like I was when I was younger.” He looked over at Krolia remembering the visions that appeared during their time on the space whale of him as a kid in the Garrison. “He thinks that I'm the only one who can connect to this Lance because of those similarities.”

Krolia’s eyes tightened minutely at the mention of his childhood. She had moved back towards the wall beside the pilot’s seat, and she cocked her head as she listened to Keith talk. “What do you think?”

Keith sighed. “I suppose he's right. I didn't see it at first because it's not the same seeing it on someone else's face, but when I stop and think about what I saw in his eyes,” he trailed off. “I don't know that we're exactly the same, or even what caused it in him, but Shiro saw us both and if he thinks I can help then I should try at least. At the very least he needs someone to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't get into trouble.” 

Krolia nodded in thought. “It won't be easy for you.” She stated matter-of-factly. Keith choked out a humorless laugh at that, “No. No, it won't.” He thought again about that plummeting feeling as he looked into his eyes in the cockpit of the Red Lion. A lot of the reason, most of it actually, was because it was clear Lance was missing. But part of it was also how wrong it was to see Lance, any version of him, so completely desolate.

Krolia placed her hand on his shoulder once more. “Keep his memory. It will help.”

 

——————————————————————

 

Keith and Krolia walked out of the Black Lion together. Krolia left to go find Kolivan and finish last minute preparations for their journey. Keith noticed someone standing in front of the Red Lion, so he waved Krolia off with a promise to come see her off in the morning. He turned to the young man and realized with a start that it was AR Lance staring up at Red’s jaw.

Keith stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide with shock as he took in his appearance.

His hair was cut into a fading undercut with two small stripes right behind his right ear, angled in a way that made it look like two shooting stars racing across his scalp. On that same side, towards the front he had a small tuft of hair dyed silvery blue. The rest was still the same shade of chocolate he had naturally but it was wavier than it used to be, somehow channeling a beachy windswept look without having actually been there.

Keith shook himself out of his stupor and cleared his throat. Lance looked over at him as Keith started towards red. 

“Oh. It's you. Come to remind me some more about my liability status?” Lance asked waspishly.

Keith bit back his retort. _Keep his memory_. “No,” he said instead, shaking his head. Lance grunted and turned back to the Lion, still eying him warily. “You look different.”

Now that he was closer, he could see that in addition to the change in hairstyle Lance had a multitude of piercings in each ear. On one side he had four lobe piercings: a shimmering Saturn shaped stud, a simple black stud and two tiny silver stars. On the other he had the other halves of the Saturn and black stud pairs, a blue beaded conch hoop and another, smaller hoop near the top curve of his ear.

Lance shot him a crooked, wolfish grin. “I went to get my hair cut this morning and said ‘give me your best space-pirate look.’ Seems they got it right.”

“Uh huh,” Keith intoned, “Did they throw in the piercings for free?”

“No, I had to pay extra for those,” Lance said. His amusement didn't last long, the laughter in his eyes barely smoldering before it died out completely. “I’ve had my ears pierced for years, but I took them all out a few days ago. I stopped by that weird Bazaar in town to get some new ones.” Lance said, touching his ears.

“You got them done in space? By who??” Keith asked.

“Some by Pidge, some by you. Well, my version of you anyway,” Lance looked thoughtfully at him. “You two like stabbing things…”Keith huffed a laugh at that. 

They stood in silence together for a moment, both looking up at Red.

“So… What are you doing out here?” Keith asked.

“Well as I was so helpfully reminded last night, this reality’s Lance pilots the Red Lion and we don't know if that extends to me or not. Thought I'd come out and try bonding with him or whatever.” Lance’s arms were crossed loosely over his chest, hip cocked to one side as he continued to stare up at the obstinately closed maw overhead. “Also I may have come looking for my missing headphones. I was wearing them when I was switched but not in the Med Bay. Probably got knocked off during the battle.” He admitted flatly, glancing sideways towards Keith. 

“Ah.” Keith nodded awkwardly. “I can get him to at least open up if you want.” He offered.

“I thought you piloted the Black Lion,” Lance said. 

“I started out in Red. We still have a connection, though not as strong as it used to be.” Keith nodded up to Red. When he looked at Lance, he was regarding him curiously.

After a moment, Lance shrugged and stood back as the Red Lion brought his head down to allow them access.

“I owe you an apology.” Keith stated before Lance could walk away. Lance raised his eyebrows at him, but otherwise looked unimpressed. He didn't say anything though, so Keith continued on. “I did a poor job of leading our team yesterday, you included. I shouldn't have let my emotions get so out of hand. It won't happen again.” He held his hand out to Lance, who hesitated but shook it with a brief nod. 

Lance walked into the space craft coming back out a few minutes later with a pair of green headphones, similar to the ones Keith had seen Pidge using, around his neck. He made to keep walking out of the hangar, then stopped suddenly, turning to Keith.

“Look, just so you know, we aren't friends. In any reality.” Lance said shortly.

“Well that's not true, but go on.” Keith countered, feigning nonchalance.

“Fine,” Lance said with an irritated look, “Let me put it this way; _I_ don't do the whole ‘friends’ thing. I have teammates who I protect and who protect me but I do not get friendly with people. This little exchange we just had-” he gestured between the two of them, “means nothing, so don't go looking into it too much for some kind of deeper meaning.” And with that he stomped away.

Keith watched him go, feeling slightly whiplashed. The tension that he had thought was dissipating between them seemed to swell back instantly. It was at such odds with how he had grown used to operating with the Lance he knew that he wasn't sure he would be able to jump this hurdle. But that was a classic Angsty-Keith move just now, which meant he at least had an idea of how to handle that. If he couldn't make things better before they switched them back, at least he knew how to tread this water. 

_Well looks like Shiro’s right, as usual. Bastard_.

 

——————————————————————

 

“I’ll weasel it out of you one way or another, Hunk. You may as well give in now before the torture ensues.”

Pidge and Hunk sat across from each other in the Commissary. He fidgeted a bit more at her threat, but remained resolute.

“Nope. I'm not saying anything. You can't make me. I won't talk. You can have my Name, Rank, and favorite food and that's all.” He picked up his fork and started eating to break eye contact. Pidge continued to glare over the frames of her lenses at him.

“Oh you'll talk…” She said, and Hunks head snapped up, eyes wide, as if he expected her to be wringing her hands maniacally.

“Don't give ‘em anything” Shiro encouraged, sitting down next to Pidge. 

Matt sat next to Hunk, his long hair pulled back from his face. “And if she gets too worked up, just chuck her out in the desert; everyone knows gremlins hate sunlight.” Matt said with a shrug. Pidge mimed blowing a dart at him and he fell backwards out of his chair, giving her a wounded look as he reclaimed his spot. She smirked, and Matt snickered with her. 

“What information is she trying to wring out of you now?” Shiro asked Hunk.

“He insists he doesn't know what happened to AR Lance in his reality, but I can see right through him.” Pidge said matter-of-factly. Hunk, in response, clamped his mouth shut and silently pleaded with Shiro for help. 

“You know you'll never get it out of him. Hunk’s a master secret keeper.Stop torturing the man.” Shiro said, picking up his own fork. “Besides, shouldn't something like that be Lance's choice to tell?”

“Yes! Thank you, Shiro! That's exactly what I told her: ‘even if I did know something, which I don't, it wasn't for me to say, if I could.’ Which I can't.” Hunk babbled.

“Uuughhh fine, I'll stop badgering him. Thanks Dad…” Pidge groused, shredding her straw wrapper. 

“Speaking of Lance, has anyone seen him today?” Shiro asked, ignoring Pidge’s pouting. 

“No, I went to check on him this morning but he wasn't in his room.” Hunk said.

“Maybe Keith’s seen him around. He usually gets up earlier than everyone else. I’ll find him in a little while and see.” Shiro said going back to his dinner.

“BLEGH—Pidge!” Matt yelled, clutching his ear, as the rest of the table turned to stare at her. Pidge grinned around the straw in her mouth, spit balls lined up and ready to fire at her side. “I thought I saw him at the Bazaar this morning, but it could have been someone else. His hair was different.” Matt said, peeling soggy bits of paper off his cheek and ear. “Ugh, how did you even manage to shoot that many at once? And what did I do, anyway? Shiro’s the one who spoiled your interrogation, not me.”

Pidge shrugged. “Shiro's Captain of the Atlas and resident Space Dad. He's protected.” 

“We need to hurry up and get Lance back, so you can go back to fucking with him instead of me. You become a literal troll under stress.” Matt muttered. 

Pidge made no argument on either case.

“How's research on the beam coming?” Shiro asked, still chuckling at Matt, pointing out pieces he missed.

“We’re still cataloguing all the debris brought in from the crash site. The larger pieces are being tested by Garrison technicians initially, while we wait to hear from the salvage crews that we have all the pieces. I'm going to head back down to the lab as soon as we finish eating to get to work on the legs themselves.” Pidge reported. She glared at Hunk again, “I wouldn't have left at all, but someone was ‘starving’ and apparently ‘unable to go on without dinner.’” She made air quotes, as Hunk continued munching on his food.

“What? Three square meals a day, it's important! Plus, there wasn't much to do before they finished bringing all the pieces in, we don't even have all the legs yet.” Hunk said defensively.

“Just make sure you don't work too hard,” Shiro said, amused at the pair. “Try to get some sleep at some point.”

“Yes, Dad.” They monotoned together.

The table dissolved into smaller trivial conversations as they finished their meals.

Shiro observed the rest of the table as they ate. 

Something felt just the slightest bit off, but he couldn't place his finger on it. Pidge and Hunk talked shop like they usually did, maybe with a bit less gusto than usual but he just chalked it up to the pressure to get Lance back. Matt was still a goof ball, but he'd been more serious in general since his rebel troupe landed on Earth. Even he himself had seemed more task oriented than usual, but he too had been like that since they returned weeks ago; he knew exactly why _that_ was and he wasn't about to start looking at the very thing he's been avoiding now. 

It was like looking into a room one second and then turning the light off. When the lights come back on you know something is different, off kilter just that slightest bit. It's glaringly obvious to your subconscious but your brain just can't pick it apart. You start looking at the individual things that much more closely, but the closer you look the more convinced you are that each one is still exactly the same. 

Shiro knew something was just that tiny bit off but he couldn't for the life of him place what it was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! You made it! Congratulations! It should get better from here. (I have an outline now :D)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	4. Hey there demons; it’s ya boy, Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly Lance heard a voice that had him frozen in his chair, ice flooding his veins at the sounds coming from the doorway.
> 
>  _Don't look, don't look, don't look_ , he repeated over and over in his head. He dropped his feet to the floor and angled his chair toward the front where the Garrison symbol glowed on wall. He knew this would happen at some point or other but he had hoped he could avoid it for longer than three days.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 
> Lance comes into close contact with Veronica for the first time and he doesn’t take it well. The rest of the team finally figures out why this Lance is the way he is and Keith knows how to help, at least a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I’d share a link to the Spotify playlist I have for this fic, for those of you who are interested in listening to the songs I use for inspiration as you read. Anytime I mention a song in the fic or in the notes it’ll be in that playlist, so do with that what you will 🤷♀️
> 
> Link’s at the bottom!

”Soo…” Hunk watched Lance out of the corner of his eye as they walked back from another disastrous practice.

Lance didn't respond. He looked completely uninterested in his surroundings, keeping his blank gaze straight ahead.

Hunk turned and started walking backwards trying to catch Lance's eye. “We gotta address the elephant in the hallway.”

Lance glanced at him and quirked an eyebrow. “Which would be?” 

“Your new do. And the new additions to your ears.” Pidge chimed in distractedly. She held a large tablet in her arm, the light from the screen glaring off her lenses as she walked.

Hunk nodded in agreement, arms pumping slightly to keep his balance as he continued backwards down the hall. 

“That took longer than I expected,” Lance mumbled to himself with a deadpan glance away. He heaved a deep sigh, then continued louder, “What about them?” His hands were stuffed deep in his jacket pockets and he barely looked at either of them as he spoke.

“What abo- how about we start with the _drastic_ change in appearance within a day of being here?” Hunk started animatedly. “You got a cool new haircut, a little bit of a Shiro vibe going on here-” He flapped his hand at his own forehead, “And you have all these sweet new piercings! Plus, I have never seen your hair all wavy like that. What is that, some new hair product you got from somewhere?” 

“My hair was getting too long and I wanted a change from the Princess cutting it while I had the chance;” Lance began listing explanations on his fingers in a monotone, “The Captain’s was larger, more centered than mine and completely white; the piercings aren't new and yes.” He finished with finality.

Hunk’s eyebrows rose, unimpressed with the deflections. _To call him out, or not to call him out; That is the question_.

“That the story you're sticking with there, buddy?” Pidge decided for him. “A cheap excuse and some non-answers?”

Lance's eyes narrowed as they cut to Pidge. Pidge either didn't notice or didn't care as she continued to plug away at her tablet. Hunk watched the two of them, glancing occasionally over his shoulder to see where he was going. Finally, Lance returned his gaze forward. “Yep.” He said flatly.

“Okay then. Good talk,” Hunk said with a clap of his hands as he turned back to facing forwards.

They continued on in silence until they got to the Mess Hall. The three of them stood in line together as they got their food and Hunk, for the first time since he met him, couldn't tell what Lance was thinking. He couldn't accurately gauge his mood anymore and it bothered him. 

Once they made it through the line, Hunk started scanning for empty seats. Lance scanned the opposite direction before saying, “See you guys later,” and heading off alone.

Pidge and Hunk watched as he walked away, then glanced at each other.

“What is his _deal_? I can't believe I'm saying this, but I almost miss the old Lance's chatter.” Pidge shook her head, as Hunk led the way to a few empty seats across the room. “I'm gonna be so mad when I find out what happened to him aren't I? It's gonna be so obvious isn't it?” Pidge asked. 

“I'm going to assume those were rhetorical and treat them as such.” Hunk said, putting his tray down. “You don't think we pissed him off, do you? Should we have left it alone? I mean, I thought it might have been something innocent enough to ask about but clearly it was something he didn't want to talk about, maybe we shouldn't have called him on his-”

“Hunk.” Pidge cut him off with a look. Hunk looked worriedly over at Lance where he sat, a group of women gathering around his table. 

“What if he just really wanted to be alone? We should go rescue him-” Hunk made to get up and Pidge stuck her leg out to trip him.

“Hunk, we're his friends not his keepers. Of course we call him out on his bullshit when he starts in on it, and if he wants to eat alone that's fine but he's perfectly capable of shutting _that_ down if he wants to. Clearly,” she said, waving her hand to emphasize the clear absence of Lance at their table as she held Hunk's gaze from his spot on the floor. “Besides, it doesn't look like he's that worried about it.” She glanced at the appreciative look on Lance's face before going back to her work. 

Hunk got up and sat back down in his seat, fidgeting restlessly. He continued to shoot concerned glances across the room, but Pidge was right as usual; Lance couldn't be described as enjoying himself exactly but he certainly seemed to at least be enjoying the company.

“Are you sure we shouldn't try talking to him again?” He said in a rush as he crumpled his napkin 

“Drop it Hunk. He'll talk to us when he's ready. In the meantime let's just focus on switching them back.” Pidge said without looking up. Words and images flashed across her glasses as she scrolled through pages and pages of data, making notes here and there as she went.

Hunk nodded reluctantly and began picking at his lunch.

 

——————————————————————

 

 Lance sat near the other paladins at the far end of the huge conference table for the briefing. He leaned back with his feet propped up on the table as they waited for everyone to file in and settle themselves.He rocked back and forth in his chair, already bored. Chances were, his situation would come up at some point during the meeting but it was unlikely that it would be the main topic and as far as anything else went he was only there for show.

He fiddled with his earrings as he let his mind wander. They'd let him know when they needed him.

Three days he'd been here. Four if you count the one where they were switched, but three full days at least.

He'd spent most of that time trying to forget where he was. He wasn't able to drink himself into oblivion like he wanted, since the bartender had put actual hand drawn wanted posters of him outside the bar.

Instead, when he wasn't being drilled again and again by Keith (which, alright, to be fair he was drilling ‘ _the team’, ‘for training_ ’, but still), he'd been fairly successfully pretending he doesn't actually exist at all. It's not that difficult; he just finds places with vaguely interesting things to look at and shuts his brain down, all the way until he doesn't have any conscious thoughts whatsoever and he's just staring unblinkingly at god knew what. 

Suddenly he heard a voice that had him frozen in his chair, ice flooding his veins at the sounds coming from the doorway.

 _Don't look, don't look, don't look_ , he repeated over and over in his head. He dropped his feet to the floor and angled his chair toward the front where the Garrison symbol glowed on wall. He knew this would happen at some point or other but he had hoped he could avoid it for longer than three days. 

The meeting was called to order and somebody was talking about something and pointing to exhibit whichever's on the wall. 

Lance couldn't hear them.

He could hear the tapping of somebody's pen on the table.

He could see the lights change as they went from slide to slide.

He could feel his leg bouncing uncontrollably. 

He could smell the perfume he used to buy for her every Christmas. She must be sitting fairly close to him then. He thought he might throw up.

He breathed through his mouth and tried to focus on the presentation. He really, really tried; all he could think about was the moment the briefing would end and he would have to get up and leave and he would turn around to see her happy and breathing and alive. Visions of the last time he saw her filled his mind;  _cold and unnaturally pale, covered in dust from the collapsed buildings around her, a trickle of dried blood trailing from the corner of her mouth. Hands shaking badly as he tried to wipe it away. What little bit that came off flaking away into her hair_.

 

“—Lance?”

  

——————————————————————

 

Keith had been following the briefing closely. Shiro had mentioned to him earlier that they had been trying to track Haggar’s exact location in case ‘team Punk’ found that they needed her, or something in her possession, to complete the switch; that way they would already be a step ahead. He was eager to hear about the progress on the robeast as well.

When Commmander Holt spoke to Lance, Keith turned to wait for his response.

“Hm?” Lance looked up from his hands to see who spoke to him. He sat bent over, legs spread with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped tightly between them. He could have passed as somewhat relaxed and engaged in the conversation if he hadn't been zoning out so thoroughly and his leg wasn't bouncing relentlessly.

Commander Holt smiled encouragingly at him and asked again, “Did you notice anything odd surroundingyour displacement here? Before or after?”

Lance gave a derisive snort and rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, one arm crossed against his chest and tucked against his side while the other was jammed into his pocket. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

“Stranger than falling asleep in your own Lion in your own reality and waking up, not only in a different Lion, but in a nice cushy reality complete with a whole living family just minutes away? Stranger than waking up envious of another version of yourself? Did you mean something more odd than suddenly finding yourself so out of control of your own life that you end up trapped on an alternate version of a planet you swore you'd never set foot on again?” Lance raised an eyebrow. “Sorry Commander, those things seem to be overshadowing anything else at the moment. If I think of something, I'll be sure to let you know.”

Silence fell for a beat as they all waited for a reaction. Keith saw Shiro grimace out of the corner of his eye, and he glanced at Sam who stood slack jawed at the end of the table.

“Don't speak to the Commander that way; he's one of the people trying to get you off the planet you seem to hate so much. Remember your place, McClain!” Griffin leaned across the table, stabbing a finger at Lance.

Lance narrowed his eyes dangerously. “And who the hell are you to remind me?” 

“James Griffin, Squad Leader-”

“Well, _Squad_ _Leader_ , he asked a question and I answered it. So why don't you mind your business and let the big boys talk now.” Lance sneered.

Griffin stood abruptly. Lance and Keith followed, Lance raising a fist. “Give me a reason. I'm begging you.” Lance murmured menacingly, the yellowing bruises on his face heightening the effect.

“Alright, enough!” Commander Holt called out. Keith put a hand on Lance's shoulder and pushed him back towards his seat, keeping a wary eye on Griffin. Lance plopped down as he continued to glare.

“Keep your teammates in line, Kogane.” Griffin spat.

Lance launched himself across the table.

“That's enough!! Stow it, the two of you!” Shiro yelled. Keith and Hunk wrestled Lance backwards off the table. Shiro jerked Griffin away on the other side and pushed him back into his seat. 

Lance stood breathing heavily, and shook the other two off him. “If that's all Commander?” He asked with a glance at Commander Holt. Then he turned on his heel without waiting for a response and walked stonily past the rest of the table, his gaze fixed resolutely on the door. 

The room stood in shocked silence in the aftermath, awkward glances abounding. 

Hunk gripped Veronica’s shoulder as she trembled in her seat. Pidge and Coran watched the door with troubled expressions while Allura massaged her temples.

Keith and Shiro shared a brief look before Keith nodded and said resignedly, “I'll find him.”  

  

He followed Lance out into the hallway and found Kosmo curled up in the corner by the door.“I don't suppose you know which way Lance went?” He asked. Kosmo cocked his head and disappeared with a flash. Keith sighed and continued down the hall.

He decided to systematically check all the places he knew this Lance was familiar with. He checked the Commissary. He checked the training room. The Lion Hangar.

Kosmo found him knocking incessantly on the door to Lance's quarters a few minutes later. He ducked his head under Keith's other hand and in another flash he found himself outside, throwing his arm up to shield his eyes from the bright afternoon sun.

The sound of glass shattering to his right drew his gaze.

They stood near an outcropping of large rocks, some distance from the Atlas. Lance appeared to be about two beers into the six-pack by his feet already, and there was glass shards scattered near the base of one of the closest rocks. He stood glaring at the ground as he used a lighter to pry the bottle cap off another beer. He let the cap drop and pocketed the lighter before taking a long swig.

“I knew your weird dog would go tattling to you. Snitch.” Lance said bitterly as he stared off into the distance. 

“I came to check on you.” 

Lance huffed scornfully, clenching his jaw and taking another swig. “I'm fine. I don't need you to check on me.”

Keith nodded, looking away and pursing his lips. He turned back and asked, “Where'd you get the beer?”

“What am I, twelve? I bought it.”

“It was just a question, Lance.” Keith said mildly irritated.

Lance rolled his eyes and looked at Keith, brows drawn together, his lips pressed into a thin line. “The Bazaar. I owe the bartender on the Atlas so I didn't think I'd get very far with him or I would have gone there for something better than this bullshit.” He indicated the bottle in his hand before he brought it back to his lips. “I'm hoping if I just drink it fast enough it'll have the same effect.”

They stood in silence for a moment. When Keith opened his mouth to speak again, Lance cut him off.

“What do you want Kogane?” He snarled. “Take your dog and buzz off. I told you I don't do the friend thing, so just leave me alone.”

Keith crossed his arms and cast a glance over his shoulder at the base in the distance. “I'm not walking all the way back to the Atlas, and it doesn't look like Kosmo’s ready to leave yet either.” The space wolf sat staunchly between them watching the pair. They weren't that far out, really, but he wasn't about to give in that easily.“What's going on? What was all that back there?”

“What's going on!? I thought I made myself pretty clear back in the conference room!” Lance rounded on Keith. “My life has been out of my control for years, but this is all icing on the goddamn cake!” 

Lance took another long drink, never breaking eye contact. He turned and started pacing back and forth between Keith and the pile of glass shards. “I’ll admit I haven't been the best person over the last few years, it's not something I'm proud of, but I have done my absolute damnedest to make up for getting my family killed! But that wasn't enough, was it!? Surprise, surprise, Lance's best wasn't good enough,” He jeered. “No, whatever powers-that-be saw fit to pluck me out of my already miserable life and place me in literal Hell! ITS NOT FAIR!!” Lance roared and in one fluid motion he stopped his pacing, turned and whipped the bottle at the rock with a wet crash, painting its side with the remnants of the liquid within. 

 _Oh_ , Keith thought with a wave of sorrow and understanding that ran deeper than just gaining new knowledge, _it was his family_.

Lance stood with fists clenched at his sides, chest heaving and eyes shut tightly to the world as he collected himself. Keith looked at Kosmo who stood, alert and ready, then he gently placed a hand on Lance's rigid and shaking shoulder.

When Lance looked over at Keith, the most devastatingly blank and defeated expression on his face, Keith held his other hand blindly out for Kosmo. He gave Lance a small, tight lipped smile as he felt fur fill his hand, then they were gone in a flash of light. 

 

The three of them reappeared in one of the Garrison hangars that housed the various smaller modes of transport. 

Lance blinked stupidly a few times and looked around disbelieving. “Goddamn weird teleporting dog…” he muttered. He continued louder, “I wasn't done out there, mullet. I still had half a six pack left.” 

Keith was busy taking the covers off a couple hover-bikes. “Do you want your headphones?” He asked ignoring Lance's complaints. 

Lance reached up to feel his neck, like he expected them to already be there and scowled when he found it bare. “Why?” 

“I don't know Lance, you're the one who's been wearing them for two days straight. Do you want them or not?” Keith huffed.

“Fine, I guess,” he shrugged testily. Keith nodded to Kosmo and he disappeared again. “What are you doing anyway?” Lance snapped.

“We're going for a ride.” Keith paused then squinted at him and asked, “How buzzed are you?” 

Lance rolled his eyes. “It barely did anything. Beer has about the same effect as juice at this point.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at that. “Walk the line. Heel to toe.” He pointed at a painted line near them on the concrete floor.

“What?” Lance scoffed, “I'm not doing your little makeshift sobriety test.” He crossed his arms and widened his stance. 

“Do you wanna get out of here, or not? My reality, my rules.” Keith said still pointing. “Now walk, or we stay put.” 

Lance rolled his eyes again before finally giving in and began walking the straight line, heels bouncing against the rubber on the toes of his shoes as he went, showing off with alternating index fingers to his nose. 

Kosmo appeared next to Lance as he finished and Keith nodded approvingly, though still mildly concerned about the ‘ _beer has the same effect as juice_ ’ comment. Lance retrieved his headphones from Kosmo’s mouth and wiped them off on his shirt while Keith made sure there was enough fuel in each tank.

He climbed on one and kicked it to life. “Ready?” He asked.

“I was born ready.” Lance said with a dark grin.

Lance climbed up, started the engine and put his headphones on. He scrolled through his music on the device he brought with him across realities and once he decided on one he revved the engine and shot out of the hangar. 

Keith smirked to himself and followed him.

They raced across the desert, wind whipping their hair and tugging at their clothes as they each fought for first place. Keith led them along familiar winding paths when he had the lead, feeling the exhilarating swoop in his belly as he took each turn at speed, making him giddy; Lance pushed his hover-bike to its limit going for speed along the straight-aways, a force of sheer determination to reach anywhere as fast as possible.

See, Keith knew logically that they had both flown war machines at much greater speeds and with more acrobatics than these measly, technologically outdated hover-bikes. The thing is, when you feel trapped, speed isn't actually what you need; what you need is the wind on your face and the excitement of betting your life on your skill as a pilot when that's all that stands between you and the cold, hard ground.

No walls; no safety nets.

No ancient telepathic alien entities to guide or save you. 

That's the truest form of freedom Keith's ever found.

As they neared the cliff, Keith glanced at Lance beside him. He was bared down on the handlebars in preparation, a smirk on his face and a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. Keith turned back, grinning. They both shot over the edge, clouds of dust catching up to them as they hovered for just a millisecond before going into a nosedive. 

Lance gave a mighty battle cry as they plummeted to the earth. Keith wistfully remembered the screams of terror from his Lance the last time they went over that cliff. 

And just like that the soaring joy in his heart fell away as fast as their bikes from the cliff, the sobering reality crashing back in like the looming ground before them.

With a shift of the gears and just the right amount of thrust, the two of them rebounded on a cushion of air and continued rocketing on. The great swoop in his belly at the sudden change in speed and direction that was normally his favorite part, had Keith feeling sick instead.

He wished he was doing this with _his_ Lance under better circumstances, but he wasn't. _His_ Lance was probably stranded in a reality without his family, with teammates who aren't used to Lance's exuberant personality, who might be just as hardened as the Lance that reality produced. He might be all alone there.

Keith frowned at the disturbing thought. _Lance will be fine_ , he told himself. _He's the most resilient and adaptable member of the team. He’ll be ok until we can figure this out. He has to be_. 

Eventually they slowed down and came to a stop. They sat in companionable silence on the ground with their backs against the bikes as they stared out over the horizon, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Suddenly Lance said, “I used to go out and pick fights all the time. Right after it happened.” 

Keith turned to look at him but didn't say anything, sensing somehow that if he spoke he would break whatever trance Lance had put himself in.

Lance kept his gaze straight ahead at the skyline. “I was such a prick then. More than I am now if you can believe that,” he glanced sideways. “Anytime we stopped somewhere I would find a bar of some sort and get drunk and pick fights with the locals. It's easy to do; just pick apart their culture, their planet, their bar. Loudly and as much as possible. It's the same wherever you go, people want to defend what they're proud of. I'd come back to the Castle, beat to hell, and tuck myself into a healing pod. Then we'd go out and continue fighting the good fight until we came to the next stop. One day Commander Shirogane and the Princess cornered me and gave me a huge dressing down; told me to get my act together and stop giving Voltron a bad name at every Coalition Outpost we formed.”

Lance fell silent.

“What did you do?” Keith asked.

“I stopped,” he shrugged. “Found other outlets. Less public, but equally unhealthy outlets.”

Keith wasn't sure he wanted to know specifics, and more than that he didn't want to pry. He could take a guess and say it still involved alcohol though.

“Keith started sparring with me all the time too,” Lance said. “Just hand to hand at first, then with swords when my bayard upgraded. That's how I learned my swordsmanship skills.”

“What about the no friends rule?” Keith looked back out at the desert cynically.

“Keith and I aren't friends,” Lance started harshly. He paused, contemplating, then continued softer, “Our relationship is— complicated… I don't know what I am to him, but he is not my friend.”

“Mmm,” Keith hummed thoughtfully, “if he's anything like me, then he at least wants to be your friend. Especially if he initiated those sparring sessions you mentioned.”

Keith got up, dusted himself off and kicked at a few pebbles on the ground. “But I don't think I had to tell you that; sounds like you already know what you are to him. And another thing?” He added, looking down at Lance as he mounted his bike. Lance remained seated on the ground staring ahead with brooding eyes. “I may not be great at reading people, but it's sounds less like you're informing me about your friendship policy and more like you're trying to convince yourself it's true.” 

In the heavy silence, Keith started the engine and turned back toward the Garrison. Not long after, he heard the roar of the other bike behind him and they made their way back to the base together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://open.spotify.com/user/223scn77nzsbkjd4qazzulg2q/playlist/1QR2psPWWEZwNJlCJsqQY6?si=RzhOu7eFQAOQFYTMHA9qvQ
> 
> Lance is listening to Locked and Loaded by The Brevet when he goes for his little joyride with Keefer


	5. Huston, We’re Having Some Complications; Please Advise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is ridiculous. Drills aren't working, Kogane.” Lance echoed his thoughts. He stood stiffly, hands on his hips as sweat dripped down his long tan face and he stared intently at Keith. “We can't just keep doing the same thing over and over again and hoping for a different result.”
> 
> “Do you have any better ideas?” Keith asked irritably. 
> 
> “We need to get out of our heads,” Lance said definitively. He paused, maintaining relative indifference. Then Keith watched an expression form he knows he's seen on that face before; Lance had a plan and no doubts that it would work. 
> 
> “We need our helmets.” Lance spun on his heel and headed confidently towards his things. 
> 
> —————————————————————
> 
> When a win doesn’t feel like a win sometimes going for a midnight stroll can clear your head and give you some peace. Keith doesn’t have that kind of luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in question is “Battleflag” by Lo Fidelity Allstars

“Arrrgh!”

Lance growled as he shot wide and completely missed his target for the fifth time today.

“Alright, let's take a short break.” Keith sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. He watched as Hunk flopped to the ground with a groan and Pidge sank down beside him, leaning her small frame against Hunk’s supine body. Allura wandered over to the stash of sports drinks clustered near the wall.

The team had been running drills all morning -every morning for the last week to be precise- but they still hadn't worked out all the kinks. It wasn't that this Lance was a bad shot, he was just as good as their own Lance (not to mention his skill with a broadsword). Keith knew what the problem was: It was everyone's timing.

He was frustrated, partly because they weren't meshing like they should be but also because he couldn't figure out how to fix it! The only thing he knew to do was repeatedly drill the team until it clicked, but his plan wasn't working out like he wanted it to.

“This is ridiculous. Drills aren't working, Kogane.” Lance echoed his thoughts. He stood stiffly, hands on his hips as sweat dripped down his long tan face and he stared intently at Keith. “We can't just keep doing the same thing over and over again and hoping for a different result.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Keith asked irritably.

“We need to get out of our heads,” Lance said definitively. He paused, maintaining relative indifference. Then Keith watched an expression form he knows he's seen on that face before; Lance had a plan and no doubts that it would work.

“We need our helmets.” Lance spun on his heel and headed confidently towards his things.

“Our helmets?” Pidge asked, not a small amount of incredulity coloring her voice. She sat up and watched him rummage through the pockets of the jacket he had discarded earlier. “How the hell are they going to make a difference?”

Hunk and Allura looked to Keith for his response. He shrugged, rolling his eyes at Lance's lack of explanation, and went to get his helmet from where he had set it on the floor by the wall. The others followed suit with only minor grumbling from their resident tech expert. Lance, his borrowed fighter pilot helmet now tucked under his arm, was fiddling with the small device that he had presumably been searching for.

Keith recognized it at once. It was Lances music, and Keith eyed him suspiciously wondering where he was going with this. For the first few days of training, Lance had insisted on running the drills wearing his bulky headphones but he had stopped once he tried to pull a particularly fast paced stunt and the head band fell over his eyes and blocked his view completely.

Once everyone had donned their helmets Lance hit play and a rhythmic humming began filtering through their headsets.

“Focus on the beat. Pay attention to the timing and stop trying to over analyze what everyone else is going to do.” Lance directed, handing control back over to Keith with a nod.

“Alright everyone, form up. Let's try this again,” Keith said as he took position. He closed his eyes to center himself, taking in the sounds pouring through his earpiece and feeling the tempo move through his body. He opened his eyes and shared a glance between his teammates as they all bobbed and tapped to the beat of the music, bayards at the ready.

There was a pause.

Then the beat dropped and he started swinging.

It was as if a switch had been flipped; They moved flawlessly and in perfect synchronization. The well oiled machine they had worked so hard to become over the years made a complete comeback once they let loose and just trusted each other.

Hunk took out a dummy on the left. Pidge lassoed another on the right, clotheslining a bot heading for Allura in the process. Allura rolled over the back of another, taking it out from behind. Hunk shot some back-up blasters to be mounted on the ceiling for cover fire while Keith and Lance fought back to back, two blades flying through the air.

The thrill of the fight coursed through Keith's veins as he took out bot after bot. He was like a rubber band that had been let loose after a week of mounting tension, soaring through the air elatedly with the knowledge that he would hit his mark dead on. _It_ _was_ _working_! Keith turned to grin over his shoulder in triumph at Lance, but Lance wasn't looking at him.

Lance glanced over his own shoulder, looking past Keith with blank focus. He finished off the bot in front of him and spun on his heel to face Keith. With cold and calculating precision he changed his bayard to his rifle and sniped the last three drones from the air, just as the song ended with a sudden and final trill.

The smile slipped from Keith's face as his mood curdled, remembering _for the 900th time_ that this wasn't the right Lance. He doubled over under the guise of catching his breath as he fought to control his emotions. _It's not him. It's **not** him_! The fact that this Lance had no control over the situation did nothing to cool the bitter anger that threatened to suffocate him.

Shocked silence rang for a few seconds as the rest of the team absorbed the fact that they had finally completed their training drill for the first time in days.

“That. Was. Amazing!!” From the corner of his eye Keith saw Hunk jump on Lance and ruffle his curly hair, making the sweaty mass stick out funny in the process. Lance’s lips turned up minutely as he pushed Hunk off and ran his own fingers through his hair.

“Brilliant idea, Lance!” Allura praised.

“I can't believe that worked,” Pidge said, impressed. “Take this in Lance, cause you may never hear it from me again, but that was genius!”

Keith scowled. _The one time Lance receives a complement from Pidge and it wasn't even their version of him_. He tried to pull himself together. _He had to get it together_! He had promised he wouldn't let his emotions get the best of him again and he meant it. He stood up straight, breathing deeply through his nose as he did, and pulled his helmet off his head to face the others.

“How did you even manage to get the music to come through the comms like that, man?” Hunk asked.

“Pidge jimmy rigged my helmet to connect to my music for me. It helps me get in the zone. I just opened up the comms to share it with you guys.” Lance shrugged with indifference.

“Well it did the trick,” Keith finally spoke, forcing a nod of congratulations and a tight smile. “Let's call it for today, we'll do it again same time tomorrow. And Lance?” Keith stopped him as he turned from the group, “Make a playlist. We're gonna need it.”

“Yes sir,” Lance gave a little sarcastic salute and sauntered away with his helmet under his arm.

Keith waved the rest of his teammates off as they wandered away talking excitedly about what felt like their first real win since this whole thing started. Their excitement didn’t reach him though. He huffed in frustration before turning back to the training dummies.

 

————————————————————

 

Pidge rummaged through Hunk's toolbox searching for his modified electronic diagnostic tool.

She didn't have any Galra tech available to connect to the ship to power it back up.

She didn't have any Altean schematics comparable to this design.

All she had to go on was the other robeast and it was almost completely different.

“Hah! Gotcha,” she muttered with satisfaction as she leaned backwards out of the box. She spun back to the mess of wires sprawling from the center of the leg base.

All of the legs had originated from a singular base which appeared to have been attached after the rest of the robot had been built to completion. Less like an afterthought though and more like a removable addition to the whole thing. She adjusted the receptors on the diagnostic tool a bit and connected the loose wires to their corresponding makeshift ports.

On the other side she and Hunk had built a generator that would gradually supply power at increasing intervals until the machine powered up, at which point it would automatically plateau and hold the energy at a stable level. This way they could gauge how much energy was needed without accidentally shooting too much electrical current through the beast and short circuiting the whole thing before they even got any information out of it. She flipped the switch and shoved her safety goggles on, before going back to the diagnostic monitor.

The generator whirred and Pidge watched for any signs of life. Suddenly the diagnostic monitor began to light up as numbers and codes danced across the screen. She grinned triumphantly as she read the information as quickly as possible.

Then the influx came to a screeching halt as quickly as it had started.

Literally.

The generator, which had begun shaking like an old washing machine, made a horrendous screech before it burst into flames.

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” Pidge leapt over the work bench and grabbed the fire extinguisher from the wall and ran back to save her work.

She put the fire out and stood staring in dismay at the charred and melted setback in front of her.

_Failure_ , her brain helpfully corrected.

Fury started rising up her spine, bright and acidic like bile. She hurled the fire extinguisher at the wall with all her strength, fueled by her scream of rage and disappointment.

It wasn't until it had already left her hands that she saw Keith standing there. He dodged the projectile with practiced ease and looked from the dent in the door frame to the fire extinguisher rolling across the floor before finally looking up to her with raised eyebrows.

“Everything ok?” He asked.

“No!” She yelled back. Keith took half a step back, looking around in alarm.

“Can I do anything?” He asked hesitantly.

“I don't know; can you somehow create an infinite source of compatible energy for a machine that was built using a combination of vastly more advanced technology and fucking alien magic?” She could feel her eyes starting to well up with frustration and she did her best to will them to stay dry.

“Uhh, no. Sorry.” He scratched his head awkwardly. Then he stood up straight and moved to the work bench. Pidge watched him hover over the scattered mess before giving up and sitting on the floor in front of it. He looked up at her and patted the floor next to him.

“What's going on, Pidge?” He asked gently once she sat next to him, her arms wrapped around her knees.

“I don't know! I can't get anything to go the way it should, it's just failure after failure. The closest compatible technology we have to this is the original robeast, and we think that was powered partially with the altean life force from the pilot, similar to the way the Castle of Lions relied on Allura’s life force for certain functions. This one didn't have a pilot at all, it was controlled remotely, but there are signs it should still have been powered by its pilot! We can't find anything that can even hold a candle to that kind of power!” Pidge threw her arms up as she finished her rant.

Her emotions were running high from the pressure mounting on her, and she slept even less than usual in an attempt to find the answer, which inevitably led to more stress. It was a vicious, endless cycle she couldn't break. She threaded her arms across her knees and buried her face.

She hated getting emotional like this. It wasn't that she thought she shouldn't feel the way she does, more that emotions get in the way. They aren't productive. She didn't have time for this, but her frayed nerves were in control now and she had to find some way of getting things back on track.

“Everyone's relying on me to get Lance back- Lance is relying on me in that other reality and I can't even power up the goddamn legs…” She sniffed at the floor, feeling very small as she admitted to her insecurities. “I've never had this much trouble with tech before, alien or otherwise.”

Keith gazed thoughtfully across her lab. “Have you tried reverting the electron whizzer capacitators into a binomial matrix code so you could do a loop de loop around the Tesla comms,” he asked seriously.

She lifted her head slowly to stare at him.  

“Just because you mention Tesla doesn't make it real science, Keith!!” Pidge exploded with a scowl.

Keith watched her with an amused smirk.

She tried to keep her best glare in place but felt a tiny bit of laughter bubbling up her in chest despite her efforts. She broke into a rueful grin and chuckled at his lame attempt to distract her.

“Caught some quality tv while you were away with the Blades, did you?” She asked.

“There were some decent bits,” he admitted with a shake of his head, still smiling. He looked her over. “When was the last time you slept? Maybe drank something other than coffee?”

Pidge shrugged next to him. “Sleep is for the weak. I'm actually part droid, I don't need it. And water would just mess up my circuitry.”

Keith blinked at her.

“Yeah, I'm getting you some water. Then we're marching straight to your room and you're at least taking a nap.” Keith said definitively. He stood and hauled Pidge to her feet too. “How do you even survive that big brain of yours?”

Keith steered her by the shoulder down the hall to the break room. She shrugged his hand off and walked amiably by his side. Now that she paused in her work she realized her body was actually dragging more than she thought. “Lance usually forces me to go bed after a certain point. And he leaves me drinks near my workstation. I think he might sneak snacks into my pockets too; I keep finding little protein bars in there. I can't prove that isn't Shiro though. Although, now that I think about it, I haven't found any since Lance disappeared,” she trailed off as they entered a nearby break room.

“Where's Hunk?” Keith asked. He pulled three water bottles from the fridge handing one to Pidge and opening another for himself.

“Helping Allura and Coran on the OG Robeast.” Pidge scrunched her face in thought, “Probably. It depends on what day it is.” She gulped at the water, throat suddenly parched now that the drought had been broken.

She quickly finished the bottle and threw it away, turning back to find Keith already holding a second bottle out to her. Pidge took it with a word of thanks and they continued on towards the barracks.

“Lance used to check on me all the time,” She said quietly into the dark. “At first I just thought he would come in to distract me or be annoying, prattling on about one thing or another. Then I started noticing the snacks and drinks showing up whenever he stopped by, and I brushed it off as him being a mother hen. I didn't need him to take care of me; I only let him do it to make him feel better. Maybe it was a little of both though,” Pidge admitted reluctantly. She was silent for a moment before continuing.

“He doesn't have a family in that reality. What if I can't do this and he gets stuck there forever? He’ll become just like this version of himself, maybe he's already started to-…” she stopped herself from going down that rabbit hole. “I miss him, Keith.” Her voice wavered slightly.

“Me too, Pidge. Me too.” Keith gripped her shoulder tightly.

They reached her door and Pidge swiped her ID to open it.

“Hey Pidge?”

She turned to look up at him in the dark hallway.

“Don't stress so much about people relying on you. You aren't Lance's only hope, just his best hope of returning as quickly as possible. We all know how much you care about our team, and given enough time no tech stands a chance against you. Don't lose faith in yourself.” He said, eyes glittering with fervor.

Pidge blinked for a second as his words sunk in and took root in her foggy, sleep deprived brain.

When it finally clicked she tackled him in a hug, squeezing tightly around his waist. She felt a lump forming in her throat as a certain amount of weight lifted from her shoulders at his words. Keith huffed at the impact before gently wrapping his arms around her, cradling her head protectively with one hand, the other comfortingly on her back.

“Thanks Keith,” she sniffed. When she felt confident she had herself back under control, she broke away and looked up at him shrewdly. “Shiro made the right choice. You're a good leader.”

Keith’s brows raised and his lips parted slightly in surprise.

“Night,” She said turning back to her room, leaving her friend standing alone in the dark. She had some power napping to do. And after that, She'd get back to work, and hopefully the new day would bring new solutions.

 

————————————————————

 

Keith shook his head as he turned to leave, still a little thrown by her words.

An hour ago he had been tossing and turning (much to Kosmo's annoyance) trying to will his mind to slow down and let him sleep but it refused to cease the Lance McClain Comparison Show. He had finally given up on the idea of sleep after Kosmo left with a huff and a flash of light. He had been on his way to hit the gym in an effort to exhaust his brain into submission before he found himself dodging projectiles from Pidge’s lair.

Now he wandered distractedly down the halls for a different reason. _A good leader? Must be more sleep deprived than I thought. All I did was tell her the truth_.

The gym on the Atlas was a far cry from the training deck he had become used to on the Castle of Lions but exertion was exertion no matter the equipment available. Where he used to battle training droids, he now went round after round with a punching bag, saving the droids for team practices. It kept him light on his feet if nothing else, and when someone else was available he would spar with them to keep the rest of his reflexes in condition. _Maybe Shiro will be there tonight_ he thought absentmindedly as he continued down the familiar halls. Shiro often went to the gym when he couldn't get Adam or the rest of the Paladins off his mind at night.

He was lost in thought, torn between the hope that his friend would be available to practice tonight and the wish that he was able to get some decent sleep, when suddenly he was torn from his thoughts by a giggle. He whipped around, crouching low in expectation of… he didn't know what.

He listened hard to the deafening silence and was just about to chalk it up to his imagination when he heard it again from a seemingly empty room just ahead of him.

The door had been left slightly ajar, not enough to notice at first glance but enough to let sound escape to the dark hallway beyond. Keith crept closer and cautiously pushed it open further, silently summoning his bayard as he did. It didn't sound threatening, but his actions had become hardwired over the years by instinct and experience. Better to be safe than sorry.

As the door gave way to the dark interior he saw movement towards the back of the room. When his eyes adjusted to the moonlight streaming in from the windows across from him he saw Lance and a young officer he had seen around the ship. She was maybe a year or two younger than they were, but her innocence was clear on her face despite the recent trials they had all been through on Earth. Keith doubted she recognized the interested gaze Lance was giving her for what it was.

“The moonlight plays nicely on those freckles of yours” Lance purred at her, “makes them stand out even more than the daylight.”

She giggled again, neither of them having noticed their intruder. “I always thought they were kind of ugly myself. I used to try to cover them up, before makeup became so scarce..” She trailed off shyly.

“Mmm I'm glad you can't anymore, I like them. I like all of you just the way you are,” Lance murmured into her ear before nibbling her earlobe, hands roaming her waist and up her back, one going to the back of her neck as she gasped softly.

Keith felt sick watching him.

He cleared his throat and watched as Lance froze, eyes opening with a flash of irritation at the interruption. The girl gasped for real and skittered back as if she had been burned. She muttered some excuse and dashed for the door when Keith ignored her, continuing to glare at Lance instead.

Lance for his part, had straightened slowly and stared coolly right back. Irritation and frustration at the loss of his prize hardened his features and pinched the corners of his eyes slightly. His gaze was overly casual and unapologetic, but Keith could see the undercurrent of cold anger, the tense energy that had been there the night they went for a ride out in the desert.

“Cute. Is that how you treat people where you're from?”

“Not sure what you mean there, Mullet.”

Keith huffs out a humorless laugh, “Right. Well you wanna play stupid, fine. But I'm not gonna let you tarnish my friend’s reputation because you want to have a good time. If that's what you want, you should find someone who knows what's up.”

Lance pushes off the wall then, stalking closer to Keith with a predatory gait.

“Someone like you?” He says with a leer.

“Yeah. Someone like me.”

The words leave his mouth without thinking, without permission.

Keith keeps his face carefully neutral as he continues to stare down this creature of the night Lance had become. Internally he tried to register what he's just offered, and maybe mildly panicking. While he could obviously appreciate that Lance had an attractive body (and had on more than one occasion), cashing in his chips here with a Lance that was clearly not in a good head space OR in his correct reality was not really what he had ever had in mind.

Lance stopped in front of him, arms folded loosely across his chest but leaning very close to Keith's face, considering. Keith could feel the whispers of breath across his face. Lance’s eyes were clearly visible at this distance; the deep blue he'd come to associate with The Lance of his Reality was reduced to only a sliver around wide dark pupils. There’s a calculating look to the deadened depths, possibly judging whether Keith was serious and trying to decide if he would actually go through with it.

_Would_ _he?_ , Keith wonders still panicking, _Shit, **Could** he fuck this version of Lance who clearly doesn't care who is on the other end so long as he's being satisfied?_ The thought twists in his gut unpleasantly.

But then he thinks back to the adoring look on the girls face as he showered her with insincere attention and how his Lance could never toy with people like that no matter how much he flirted his way across the galaxies.

_Yes_ , he thought, squaring his shoulders, _if it would keep this Lance in check and keep him from hurting people until they could get the real Lance back, he could do what needed to be done_. If he had a place to go when the urge struck him, he could keep Lance from causing too much damage in this reality and that was worth it. He refused to allow this stand-in mar the reputation of a good man in the eyes of the public he so desperately craved attention from.

Then Lance cocked his head with an odd expression that Keith couldn't quite place. It was something like a secret fondness slowly morphing into dawning shame and confusion.

“Goddamn,” Lance breathed. “I can't do it.” Stunned disbelief colored the tone of his voice. He dragged a hand down his face and staggered backward. He gaped at Keith like _he_ was the absurd one in this situation. “You're exactly like him and somehow that's worse? I can't do that to him. When the hell did _that_ happen?”

Keith thought he looked much more lost than suddenly growing a conscience strictly warranted. He continued to watch him flounder for a minute longer but when it became clear Lance wasn't going to be bringing himself back from the planes of his apparent existential crises he decided to step in.

“Uhh Helloo,” Keith said, waving a hand in front of Lance's face, “Earth to Lance?”

Lance blinked at him. His eyes became more focused and as he stared at Keith's face his own features tightened once more. He shoved his hands roughly into his pockets and turned to leave. He stopped then, standing shoulder to shoulder with Keith, facing the door.

“You should try to get some sleep,” he tossed the words over his shoulder, assuming his standard disinterested demeanor once again. Glancing sideways he quietly added, “G’night Keith.”

Keith watched him walk out the door and down the hall feeling whiplashed and confused. His thoughts churned more violently than ever as he stood frozen in the wake of that- whatever that was.

Running his hands through his hair he thought, _There is absolutely zero chance of me getting to sleep at all now_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok ok ok guys I’m so sorry for the extended absence! I’ve been going through some bullshit at work and at home and honestly I just didn’t have the time or headspace to work on this, but I think I’m back! Also I have a bonus mini chapter as an apology and treat for you!
> 
> As always any criticism you have would be appreciated! Sometimes I feel like I’m not doing this story in my head justice but at a certain point you have to just let it go and hope for the best, am I right?
> 
> Ok, thanks for reading!


	6. We’re not in Cuba anymore, Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He slammed his spoon down. The whole table looked up at him, startled and wary. 
> 
> “Alright, what is it?” Lance demanded. He eyed them all individually, before landing solidly on the Black Paladin. “What aren't you telling me?”
> 
> ——————————————————————
> 
> INTERMISSION! 
> 
> Alternate title: Stuck in the UpsideDown
> 
> A little baby glimpse of our Lance in the other reality!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s that mini chapter I promised! Enjoy!

There are a few things in this world that Lance is absolutely sure of. Spending years stuck in space fighting an ancient intergalactic war with your best friends will clear some things up for you. Being transported across realities via evil magic witch beams will clear a few more.

One is that nothing triggers fantasy meal plans like neon green food goo.

For another, despite Hunk’s vehement disagreement, pineapple is the perfect pizza topping. Especially when paired with ham and bacon. Because it's his fantasy and he can have both.

And finally, though he may not excel at a great many things, his instincts and his marksmanship have never been lacking.

Lance picked at his plate of goo and watched the other members of the team around the table.

Pidge whispered furiously at Hunk as he feverishly wrote something down between them, both of them largely ignoring their meals. Shiro, Allura and Coran all sat together at the opposite end of the long table from Team Punk. The three of them quietly ate their food goo, going over tactical plans, reviewing ship maintenance requirements and marking potential pit stops in the guidance system. Keith was nowhere to be found.

It had been over a week since the swap and the whole team seemed to be tip-toeing around him and generally avoiding him as much as possible. They had clearly been through a lot in what seemed to be the same time frame as his own reality. Battered and scarred and more sober than he was used to, every single person he had come to consider his friends over the last two or three years now avoided his gaze. Sometimes it felt like they were hiding something, but more than anything it was like they weren't sure what to say to him or how to be around him.

And he didn't get it! They had determined after the initial shock that he must have been swapped with his alternate self. But if that's the case then he should be pretty similar to their version of him, right? It was a little hard to tell since they kept avoiding him-Keith more than anyone- but they all seemed similar enough to his reality that he should be able to hold a conversation with them on _some_ level.

Lance couldn't find a single reason to back up his gut on this one. All that was left was the assumption that they were hiding something from him. And since it was an alternate reality and not a timeline divergence (he listened when Pidge talked sometimes) the only information they would have a reason to hide from him would be pertaining to the swap.

He slammed his spoon down. The whole table looked up at him, startled and wary.

“Alright, what is it?” Lance demanded. He eyed them all individually, before landing solidly on the Black Paladin. “What aren't you telling me?”

Their wariness grew but no one immediately spoke up. Shiro opened his mouth to speak and Lance cut him off.

“I know it's something Shiro. Don't deny it. None of you can even look me in the eyes. You've all been tiptoeing through our conversations like you don't know what to say to me without spilling some beans. If you have information about the swap, I have a right to know about it!” He finished animatedly.

If there were crickets in space that's all that would have sounded in the empty air.

“Tell him, Shiro.” Keith's voice sounded from the doorway behind him.

Lance swiveled around in his chair. Keith stood tall and dark in his Blade uniform leaning against the frame of the door with arms crossed, giving Shiro a hard look.

Keith had been the one who found him after his swap, looking just as grizzled and cool as he had the day he came back from his time on the space whale. He had taken one look at Lance's face as Lance lay crumpled and bruised on the floor of the Lion Hangar below Blue’s giant maw (where Blue had apparently deposited him) and marched him straight to the Bridge at knife point. Keith hadn't said two words to him after accusing him of being some sort of imposter. He had even gone so far as to completely ignore Lance once everyone had agreed he wasn't a threat.

Now, Lance had become closer with his reality's version of Keith but it was still odd when they actually agreed on anything. This was just plain suspicious.

“While I agree with the statement, mullet, your demeanor over the last wee- er, movement,” he faltered a bit, still trying to break the bad habits he had been forming back on Earth, “has given me a reason or two not to trust your sudden alignment with my personal desires.” Lance narrowed his eyes. 

“Do you want to know the truth, or not?” Keith spat at him, looking him dead in the eyes.

Lance held his gaze for a solid beat, searching for deception in the dark depths but something told him it was just Keith.

Just loyal, passionate Keith.

Lance nodded slowly and turned back to the table, his guard still up. He had to remember the last time he crossed realities friends on first appearance turned out to really be enemies in disguise, but the opposite had been true then too.

“We can't keep it from him forever. What if he never gets back to his reality?” Keith continued.

Lance glanced back at him then. _What if I never get back??_ The thought had crossed his mind but he hadn't let himself dwell on it; he preferred to have obstinately unwavering faith in his teammates in lieu of existential panic. Hearing it voiced aloud, though, made his stomach drop and Keith's Gearing-Up-for-a-Potentially-Painful-Actuality face was _not_ helping. 

“The event originated in his reality Shiro. We don't have any data to go on here that would help reverse the situation.“ Pidge added, suddenly weary. “Keith's right. If it were my family I wouldn't want to live in the dark. It'd be worse if he heard it somewhere else later.”

_My family?? What could they possibly know about my family? Pidge just said they don't have any information about my reali_ — Their words suddenly clicked and a shiver rippled through his spine. _What if this **becomes** his reality…but it's not **really** my family here, so it doesn'tmatter_… He wiped his sweating palms on his pants waited with bated breath.

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a heavy sigh. Then he nodded once. Coran and Allura watched him sympathetically.Shiro straightened up and looked around the room. Then he looked at Lance.

“You said we can't look you in the eyes. You're wrong. It's difficult, painful even, for some more than others-” he glanced at Keith, “but it's doable. You said we've been skirting around speaking to you, as if we don't know how to act around you. That one’s true, but not for the reason you think.” Shiro held his galra hand up as Lance filled his lungs to interject. He looked to Hunk, silently asking if he wanted to take over.

Hunk hadn't spoken since Lance had so abruptly called this meeting to order. He had his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead in obvious distress and wasn't watching Shiro.

Pidge picked up the explanation instead. “We aren't hiding any information about the swap from you. If we had something we'd tell you, but like I said we just don't have the data available on this side of the quintessence field. We're as in the dark as you are about that part. What we've been holding back is more person-”

“Are we really gonna do this??” Hunks head shot up suddenly, eyes rimmed in red. “We don't _know_ that he won't get back. He could be zapped back tomorrow. Right now even! Then he never has to know! He could live in blissful ignorance forever! Right, Lance? You could just be happy forever and never have this thing, picking at you, no matter what reality you're in because _you don't know what you're asking for_!” He finished pleadingly, breath coming in erratic bursts.

Lance watched him with wide eyes. Dread curled in his belly, whatever this was it was clearly bad.

“Hunk, buddy…” Tears slipped down Hunks cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut. Lance continued on. “I- I gotta know. I can't go back now.” He said earnestly.

Hunk hung his head in defeat, his eyes still streaming.

“The Galra attacked Earth a few years ago in this reality,” Shiro started again. Lance glanced fearfully at Allura, her own eyes brimming with tears as well. She shook her head minutely at him. Not destroyed, not gone completely. But then…?

“There were casualties.” Keith recited the words robotically, but when Lance turned to face him his eyes looked as though they were shredding him to pieces. “The McClains didn't make it.”

Lance stared at him, horrified.

“None of them?” He breathed.

Keith stiffly shook his head once, never breaking their gaze.

The entire room looked to be in as much pain as Lance was, the whole story slowly clawing it's way from their throats. How the Galra had attacked Earth the day they found Blue. How they defeated them, and Earth became the Hub of the Rebellion during the early days of the Second Rising; but the damage had been done, creating thousands of refugees around the world- the McClains not among any of them. How the casualties slowly stacked up, names of the missing being crossed off lists one by one as their Lance led the search efforts for weeks and weeks, refusing to give up until he found something.

“We never found Marco,” Hunk said thickly. “I thinkburying that empty casket broke yo-him, whatever, as much as all the others combined.” Hunk stared over Lance, gaze fixed far away. “He was never the same after we left Earth.”

Lance's heart pounded in his chest as his brain sluggishly processed. 

“You're so much lighter and happier than our Lance,” Coran gently explained, “We wanted to protect you from his reality here. But most of us barely knew him any other way, and it's difficult to see such a stark difference between the two of you. That combination has made us poor hosts, I'm afraid, and for that I'm truly sorry my boy.” 

“No worries, Coran,” Lance mumbled faintly, flopping a nonchalant hand halfheartedly in his direction, still in shock. “Could've happened to anyone.. in any reality..”

Just then, a hand gripped his shoulder. Lance slowly followed the arm up to the face it belonged to.

“Blink, Lance,” Keith said. “Breathe.”

Lacne closed his eyes and he felt them well with tears- from dryness or the emotions coursing through his body was anybody's guess. Both probably. 

He didn’t have any words or thoughts to explain what he felt. It was a thousand different emotions all at once. Shock. Horror. A soul deep ache for the dead. Sorrow for his other self who did. Relief that he didn’t actually lose anyone himself. Anxiety that he could. Guilt.

He inhaled.

Exhaled.

Inhaled again.

With each breath out he could feel the turmoil calming inside of him. 

When he deemed himself under control again, he opened his eyes to find the rest of the team watching him. Nervously. As if they thought he might explode or crumble into a thousand tiny pieces.

“It's good to know. I wanted to know,” he directed to Hunk, “but it's not my reality. Not my family.” Lance faltered a bit on those three words. “They're not my family. They were his.” He repeated more strongly. He clung to it.

Lance looked around the table, resolve steeling his voice. “I believe in my team. They **will** find a way to switch us back. You don't have to worry about me.”

He continued to tell himself that, relieved optimistic smiles cracking the faces of those across the table for the first time since he met them, even as the voice in the back of his brain quietly sewed doubt. _They will switch us back, right? Do they even know we were swapped?? Did they even realize I was gone at all?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Background:  
> Ok so in case it wasn’t clear, they weren’t keeping him in the dark and ignoring him to be assholes; they were all worried that he would react like their Lance did and he would be “ruined” for lack of a better term. Hunk most of all, since he knew Lance the longest, and he knows how this will effect him even if he doesn’t spiral like their version did. None of them wanted to watch it happen a second time. Keith was on the fence from the start, not liking hiding things from Lance but also not wanting to put him through the pain of finding out unecessarily. Lance’s demand to know solidified his stance on the issue. 
> 
> I don’t want to go into too much detail about Keith here, cause I have Big Plans™️ for those boys in the next part of the story and boy am I excited to tell it! For everyone else though I don’t mind spoiling some things and giving more background info. Let me know if you’re just dying to know something!


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